Finger Painting
by FarDareisMai2
Summary: Alice drags her brother Edward to an art show, intent on introducing him to her friend. Instead, Edward meets an intriguing painter, who takes the exploration of colors to a whole new level. AH and rated M for a reason folks.
1. Chapter 1

_This story was originally written for Zigster's birthday, and was posted along with a bunch of wonderful stories. You can find them here: **http: // www . fanfiction . net/s/5934844/2/Happy_Birthday_Zigster** go read and enjoy!

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_To my PF, my Pagan Fiance, I wish you the happiest of birthdays and many, many more returns. I love you so very much, and I hope that you, and everyone around you, know what a special, caring, and wonderful person you are. You are selfless, generous, and full of joy and happiness. You've even made me write fluff. Again. Damn it. You and YogaGal are going to ruin me. _

_So my darling PF, Happy Birthday. A little boy lovin' for you._

_Thanks to Zeewriter for doing last minute beta work and cleaning it all up!_

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**I sighed as I tugged at the tie around my neck, trying to loosen it a bit more.

"Edward! Leave it alone. You look perfect," Alice insisted as she swatted my hands away.

"Seriously, Alice? I look like, like . . . well, I don't look like me," I pouted.

"And thank god for that," she snarked.

"Hey!"

"Hey what, Edward? Your 'usual' attire just won't cut it tonight, alright? This is an important night for me. This show always attracts a number of designers and agents, and if they like my stuff I might get an internship." She tightened up my tie again, practically choking me in the process. "Besides, you look good and there's somebody I want you to meet."

"Alice," I whined.

"Shut up, Edward. Rose is a great girl."

I huffed and shut up. I was sure Rose was a great girl, and right there was the problem—she was a girl. I hadn't come out to my sister yet, so Alice took every opportunity to try to fix me up with girls she thought would be right for me.

Awkward.

"Honestly, Edward. I don't understand you. You're so fickle. I'm not asking you to marry anyone yet, but at least go out, have some fun, get laid," she grumbled.

I grimaced. I really didn't want to discuss my sex life with Alice or, rather, my lack of a sex life. I wasn't a virgin, but the one night stands at the clubs inevitably left me unsatisfied. I'd even slept with a woman once, just to make sure. It was my high school girlfriend, Bella, and I spent most of the time looking at the poster of Leonardo DiCaprio she had above her bed and pretending I was fucking him. That pretty much sealed the deal for me. Bella and I remained friends after we broke up, and she was also the only person I'd come out to.

When I finally passed Alice's inspection we headed out the door. Our destination for the evening was her school. Alice was graduating from art college, and that night there was an exhibit for several of the graduates to showcase their work. The mediums were varied. Alice was a clothing designer, but she told me there would also be works by a couple of painters, a sculptor, and even a weaver.

I wasn't looking forward to it. I'd always found the shows Alice dragged me to pretentious, and usually didn't like the artwork either. I hated the way people milled about talking about the artist's "mood" or "influence," or how the painting "evoked" a visceral reaction in them, when all I could see was something that looked like a child finger painted.

Don't get me wrong, I was very proud of Alice, but I'd already seen all of her designs, and, by nature, I didn't mingle well. At the clubs it was different. I'd have a couple of drinks, the lighting was dim, the crowds were heavy, and I could lose myself in the anonymity. At events like Alice's, I had to actually stop and talk to people I didn't know, and discuss topics I had little interest in. All I wanted to do was stay home and work on my latest piece. My friend Tanya told me her dance company was looking for some new music, so I was writing something specifically for her, to showcase her abilities.

We arrived and Alice immediately began squealing with excitement, then she turned to me and warned, "This is important to me, Edward. Play nice."

I plastered a fake smile on my face, but under my breath I muttered, "Don't push your luck little one."

She stuck out her tongue at me before grinning, and I couldn't help the real smile that crept across my face. My sister may have been a pain in the ass at times, but I did love her. And since our parents died, we only had each other. So, I linked my arm through hers and we walked in. And it was . . . exactly as I'd imagined it. Pretentious artists, mingling with pretentious wannabe art critics and collectors, all while being preened over by the parents of said pretentious artists.

I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and made my way around as Alice detached herself from me to go check on her pieces. I looked across the room as she walked away, and nearly tripped and fell when my eyes landed on a thing of beauty. He was about six feet tall, had blond hair that fell across his forehead in lazy waves, and he was dressed casually—black pants that hung loose and low on his hips, a thin blue v-neck t-shirt, and a couple of necklaces completed his look. His face had a layer of scruff that gave him the look of someone who couldn't be bothered to shave that day, and instead of looking affected it made him look sexy as hell. But what riveted me were his eyes; they were a vivid blue that made me think of sunny islands and the feel of hands rubbing lotion on my skin. Lost in my ogling, it took me a moment to notice that his lovely mouth—and dear god, those lips of his—had quirked up in a smirk, and I flushed to the roots of my hair as I realized that I'd been caught staring.

I spun away, nearly spilling my drink in the process and quickly walked to one of the alcoves on the other side of the huge room, where a series of sculptures were on display. I downed the wine and grabbed another one as a server walked past me. I took a few deep breaths, and a few more sips of wine, and tried to put the smirking beauty out of my mind. I started to tour the exhibits.

_Boring_.

_Ugly._

_Really?_

_Huh. Interesting._

The paintings _were_ . . . interesting. No, not interesting, captivating—wild and yet, sensual.

"What do you think?" a male voice behind me asked; the southern inflection was unmistakable.

Without taking my eyes off the painting I told him what I thought and added, "The figures are anonymous, almost androgynous even, yet they exude such sensuality, and the brushstrokes are so big, so raw, it's almost . . ."

"Almost?" he egged.

"Almost like the artist was finger painting," I finished.

He moved closer and then his breath was against my ear as he whispered, "I _was_ finger painting."

My breath hitched and my body froze. _Could it be him?_ I wondered. Gathering my courage, I turned around slowly, but no one was there. My eyes darted around the room looking for him, but I didn't see him anywhere. My breathing started to come in pants and from across the room I could see Alice with a tall blond woman, and it was obvious she was looking for me. No way could I deal with meeting one of her friends at that moment. I turned and walked in the opposite direction, looking for somewhere to be alone for just a few minutes. I needed to collect myself, and I also realized that his low voice in my ear had me partially aroused. Jesus, if just a whisper from him could do that to me . . . I shuddered.

I found a small hallway with three closed doors. The first two were locked, but the third opened to a small storeroom. I sat down on a crate and loosened the stupid fucking tie Alice made me wear, then scrubbed my hands over my face before putting them on my knees. I leaned forward and just concentrated on my breathing. When I'd calmed a bit, I thought about him. He was stunning, and talented, but what game was he playing? Why tune me up and then walk away? Was he just messing with me? Straight guy making an ass out of the gay guy?

"What the fuck?" I groused.

"What the fuck, indeed," his low voice repeated.

I jumped from my perch on the crate and spun around; I never even heard the door. I found him leaning casually against it; legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed in front of his chest. Those impossibly blue eyes of his were regarding me like I was a curiosity, but there was something else there too, behind the studied gaze, something . . .

"I've been watching you all night," he drawled, and he pushed himself off the door and began walking toward me. "You're not like the others, the ones who come to make themselves feel more cultured."

I shook my head, but my mouth didn't seem to want to work. My heart began thumping hard in my chest, and my body felt like it was buzzing. He took another step toward me, and for some reason I took one back.

"You liked my paintings," he stated. Another step forward, another back.

"Yes," I whispered, but I couldn't take my eyes off his mouth. Two more steps and my back hit the shelving behind me. He kept moving forward until he was inches away from me. His right hand reached out and grabbed the shelf on my left, partially caging me.

"Why?" he asked.

When I didn't respond, he gripped my chin in his hand and lifted it, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Mmmm, there you are. Now answer the question, chère."

I gulped as I stared at him, his eyes pinning me in place. "Because they're so sensual, erotic, it's like you're painting the people themselves, making love to them with your brushes or fingers, even though I can't tell if they're men or women," I answered, ending on a whisper and a prayer.

His lush mouth stretched into a smirk as he leaned a little closer and said, "I am painting them, and I do make love to their forms as I paint, but I _am_ also painting my lovers, and to answer your unasked question, some are women, some are men." He pulled back a bit and allowed his gaze to roam over my body. "I'd love to paint you," he said, his voice pitched low.

"But we're not lovers," I breathed.

"Well then, chère, we'll just have to remedy that, won't we?"

And then his mouth was on mine, commanding and insistent, and his lips were soft, full and warm, and when his tongue grazed me, seeking entrance, I moaned and opened to him, allowing him to explore and taste me. He pressed up against me, and I could feel him hard against my thigh and my hips bucked involuntarily. He chuckled and pulled away from my mouth, laving kisses along my jaw to my neck. His hand fisted in my hair and he ran his tongue up my neck to my ear and bit on my ear lobe. He gave my hair a tug, eliciting a low groan from me, and whispered, "Copper."

His hands moved to cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as kissed his way across my cheeks to my eyes, kissing each one and saying, "Forest." He kissed his way down my throat again, yanking the tie open and sliding it off. His long fingers nimbly unbuttoned my shirt and his hands slid against my skin, along my side, one anchoring my hip and the other moving to the small of my back, where it lit a fire in me. His tongue trailed down my neck and across my collar bones before he kissed his way to my chest. "Mmmm, vanilla."

And then his lips were around my nipples and I was whimpering as my head flew back and one of my hands grasped the back of his head, encouraging him. His hair was soft and thick in my fingers, and when I scratched his scalp, he purred against my skin before I felt the sharp sting of his bite around my nipple. My back arched and a hissed, "Fuck," escaped my mouth, before he smoothed it over with his tongue.

"Mocha."

He was fucking painting me with his tongue; choosing colors and tasting me, and in no time he had my body wound so tight I thought I might snap with another flick of his tongue. My hands were gripping his shirt, desperate to hang on to something, anything, to ground me.

And then he slid to his knees, his mouth blazing a trail down my stomach. Without hesitation he undid my pants and yanked them and my boxer briefs down. My dick jumped out at him, straining for his attention, engorged and thick.

"Fuck yes," he growled. "Carnelian," he muttered before he licked the tip. A strangled moan escaped me. He looked up, smiled wide and swirled his tongue over the top without taking his eyes off me.

"Sweet Jesus," I whimpered.

Then he opened wide and swallowed me, all the way to the base. I almost came when I felt myself hit the back of his throat.

He began to slide up and down, working his tongue around, flicking it under the rim of my head, until I was nearly insane with the need to come. My hands fisted in his hair, guiding him but trying not to force his head down, although my body screamed with the need to just fuck his mouth and have done with it. I watched as I slid in and out of his mouth, but it became too much and I had to shut my eyes and let my head fall back again as I battled with the urge to come. Part of me just wanted to explode, while the other part wanted to enjoy the feel of his silky mouth forever.

I heard a slight rustling sound as he apparently rearranged himself, but my eyes flew open again when I felt his slick finger circling my hole.

"Lube?" I asked incredulously.

He eased off of me, grinned and said, "What can I say, I'm a fucking Boy Scout, always prepared. Now hush." And he took me down his throat again.

His mouth never faltered in its rhythm as he slowly pressed his finger into my ass and began to fuck me with it, before inserting another slick finger. In and out, over and over until suddenly he switched the angle, hitting my prostate just as his mouth slid all the way down again.

"Oh my fucking god!" I shouted as I came, my cock pulsing and throbbing in his mouth.

When he finished sucking and licking every drop, he stood and kissed me again. "Delicious."

Then he spun me around and I was bent over the crate I'd sat on earlier, my pants still around my ankles as he ran his hand down my back and over my ass. "So god damned beautiful," he muttered. I heard the tearing of foil and a moment later the slick, latex covered head of his cock was pressing into me.

He entered slow and careful, making sure I was adjusted to him before he pushed all the way in. "Oh fuck yeah, chère. You feel so fucking good."

And then he pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in again. His moves were slow, but deep.

"Yes," I hissed. "Oh shit, yes," I continued as he stroked me inside, stretching me in fantastic ways and hitting me in just the right spot to bring my cock back to life.

He leaned over me, his chest against my back and turned my head to the side so he could kiss me. As he thrust in again he said, "_This_ is yellow." And he continued to fuck me like that, pressed against me, oh so deep, and I was panting against his mouth as he kept me in place.

With a last kiss he released my head and pressed down between my shoulder blades and began to speed up, his thrusts coming faster and stronger. "Orange," he growled, "this is fucking orange."

I could do nothing but give in to the sensations and behind my eyes all I saw was the color orange swirling around, a vortex that held me and spun me and spiraled with pleasure.

He pulled back, his hands on my hips, and he began to fuck me harder and faster, the sounds of our skin slapping echoed through the room, punctuated by my grunts and moans. I held on to the crate, trying not to be slammed against it as he pounded into me, brushing across my prostate with every stroke. "And this, chère, this is red. Fuck yes, this is red," he said as he reached down and grabbed my cock, expertly timing his strokes with his thrusts until I came with a scream, turning my face into my arm to try and silence it.

"Fucking hell," he muttered as he slammed into me three more times before he gripped my hips tightly and stilled, coming deep inside me.

He lay across my back again while we caught our breath, then with a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades he eased out of me and stood up. I heard his zipper and when I stood, he kneeled to pull up my pants. He placed his hands on my hips and kissed me, slow and gentle. When he backed away he said, "Thanks, Edward."

"Wait! How do you know my name?" I asked, stunned by the fact that he seemed to know me.

But he was already walking out the door. "Hey!"

I tried to chase after him, but my pants slid back down my legs and I nearly fell. With a curse I began searching the floor for my shirt and tie, and when I was presentable again I flung the door open and stormed out.

What was it with the guy and disappearing? How did he know my name? And when could we do that again? Because I'd just had the best fuck of my life.

I stepped back into the exhibit room, my eyes scanning for the beautiful blond painter, when I heard Alice's shrill, "There you are, Edward!"

I closed my eyes and bit my tongue in frustration, but turned to face her. "Hey, Ali." To her left was the blond glamazon I'd seen earlier.

"Where have you been, Edward?"

"Sorry, I just had to step outside for a minute for some fresh air."

"Oh. I thought maybe you tried to sneak out without me," she grinned. "I know you hate coming to these. Anyway, Edward, this is my friend Rosalie, but you can call her Rose. Rose, this is my brother, Edward."

I extended my hand and shook hers, polite as ever. "A pleasure to meet you, Rose."

"Likewise," she said with the hint of a familiar accent. She moved slightly to the side and there he stood, in all his blond-haired, blue-eyed glory, a shit-eating-grin on his face. "This is my brother Jasper," she said. "His work is on display here tonight, too. He's wonderful," she cooed, obviously proud of him.

"J . . . Jasper," I stuttered, extending my hand to him and squeezing a bit harder than necessary.

He grinned wider. "A pleasure to meet you, Edward. Alice has told me so much about you," he returned.

I continued to grip his hand. "Why don't you show me your work, Jasper," I said with a slight snarl.

"Certainly," he replied, pulling me toward him and placing his arm around my shoulders like we were long time friends. He looked over his shoulder at Alice and Rose. "I'm just going to show Edward here my display. I'll have him back to you in a few minutes, chères."

I felt a shudder of desire course through me at the sound of that endearment. We walked back over to the spot we first "met," and I turned to face him. "You mind telling me what's going on here, Jasper?" I didn't know if I should feel angry, hurt, used, or flattered . . . the entire thing was kind of surreal, and yet my body still leaned toward his, hungry for more.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't plan any of this, truly," he said as he brushed his hair off his forehead. "Alice talks about you so much, I almost feel like I know you, and when she met Rose and wanted to set you two up, I just assumed you were straight, and that was that. But after the eye-fucking you gave me earlier . . ." he took a breath. "Your family doesn't know you're gay, do they?"

I shook my head. "It's just me and Alice, and I haven't told her."

"It's not really my business, but why not? She's a pretty accepting person."

"I don't really know," I laughed. "I guess it's just not something you blurt out to your baby sister over your morning coffee." I shrugged. There really wasn't a good reason. It was just awkward and I was avoiding it.

"What about you?"

"Oh, my family knows about my 'proclivities,' as they call them. Only Rose gets it. Our parents seem to think I'll 'grow out of it' and settle down with a nice girl and give them lots of fat grand bébés."

I laughed at the image. He took a step toward me and ran his thumb along my mouth.

"You really are beautiful," he said. "Alice was right about that."

I blushed and tried to stammer a response.

"Hush now, chère. The only thing I want to know, is whether you want to get out of here with me right now?"

"Hell yes," I replied.

He smiled wide and beautiful, then grabbed me by the hand and dragged me back over to Alice and Rose.

"We're getting out of here," he said without preamble and began to pull me along.

Rose smirked at me, her eyes full of mirth, and I winked back.

"But . . . but . . . but Edward!" Alice sputtered, and chased after us. "What about Rose? You know I just want you to meet somebody nice."

I let go of Jasper's hand for a moment and hugged my sister tight before whispering in her ear, "I did sweetie. I did." I pulled back and placed my hand in Jasper's again, and watched as her eyes went wide with understanding. I laughed, and as Jasper and I walked away, I yelled over my shoulder, "Don't wait up!"


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello there chickadees. This story was originally part of the birthday package for my lovely PF, **Zigster**, and was supposed to be an o/s, but a few people were bugging me to continue it, and quite frankly, I wasn't done with Paintsper yet. So, this story is and will be continuing. I hope you enjoy it._

_Much love to **Chicklette **for her beta brain. Any mistakes still in here are all mine.  
_

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"Mmmmm . . . oh yeah . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh god, Jasper!"

I grinned as I listened to Maria's screams. There was nothing as exhilarating as hearing someone cry out in pleasure because of you. It was heady, intoxicating, and inspiring. I flicked my tongue once more, enjoying the way she twitched and bucked against my mouth. _That's it baby. That's it. _I slowly ran my tongue over her, enjoying the taste. I looked up, a lazy smile on my face as I took in the blissed-out look on hers.

"You still with me chère?" I asked.

"Get your ass up here," she retorted.

I crawled up her body, running my tongue over her stomach, stopping to suck a nipple into my mouth, enjoying the flavor of the body paints coating her skin. I twirled the tight peak in my mouth, before biting down on the sensitive flesh. Maria always liked things a little rough.

"Fuuuuck," she groaned. "Stop teasing me, Jasper." Her fingers twined into my hair and she tugged—none too gently—while rolling her hips against me.

Reaching for the nightstand, I snagged a small foil packet and tore it open with my teeth before rolling the latex on. I grabbed Maria's hair, yanking her head to the side. "You ready for me chère?"

"Fuck you Jasper," she growled and reached down to grab me and guide me into her.

"Yesssss," I hissed as I entered her. Always so hot and tight, my Maria.

Maria was my first muse. We'd met when I was seventeen and just starting out in art school. She was one of the models in my drawing class, and when the first sitting was over, as I fussed over putting my materials away, she asked me out for coffee. Two hours later I was sweating, and tied to her bed with silk scarves.

I'd always been bisexual, and had experimented some before leaving home and coming to Chicago, but for a young man from a small town in Texas' Golden Triangle—where roughnecks, refinery workers, and dockhands were the most common occupations, handed down from generation to generation, each father proudly gaining his son admittance into their chosen profession upon high school graduation; a rite of passage as ubiquitous as taking them to Aunt Mimi's two towns over when they turned fourteen to "make them men," just as their fathers had taken them—the pickings were slim in the "experimental" department.

As the children of a grade school teacher and a local cop, Rose and mine's lives weren't quite as circumscribed as others. Our horizons were expanded by books and music, and mom made a point of taking us to museums and exhibits, even driving us to Houston a few times a year. Still, they were the products of their own upbringings—meaning that they were staunch Catholics, with fierce ties to our family's Cajun roots. Once a year we made the trek to Lafayette, back in Louisiana, for the annual Whitlock family reunion. Daddy's grand-pere moved out to Beaumont in 1901 when they tapped Spindletop, but the rest of the family was still back in Lafayette.

So all in all, despite being relatively open minded folk, my parents weren't exactly excited when I told them I was bi. I think my momma's exact words were, "Are you sure honey? Maybe we should talk to Father Sebastian." While Daddy got up, grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked out onto the porch.

I do have to give them credit though. They didn't shun me, or turn me out like Eugene Dupre's parents did when he came out. I heard his daddy didn't even come to Eugene's funeral when he was found beaten to death, the word "fag" cut into his forehead.

Rose, of course, took the news with the same unflappable attitude she had for everything. "Well it's about fucking time. But if you ever try to sleep with one of my boyfriends, I'll put Nair in your shampoo bottle."

About a year after I moved to Chicago—and my parents were right proud of me for getting an art scholarship and being the first man in the family to go to college—I came home for Thanksgiving. I finished unpacking and as I headed back downstairs, I heard my parents talking.

"Maybe he met a nice girl," Momma said.

My daddy just snorted. "In Chicago? If he wanted a nice _girl_, he woulda found one right here at home," he said.

I walked into the room and it became too quiet. "So, I guess you don't want to hear about my boyfriend?" I watched their faces, my father trying real hard not to look apoplectic. "Just kidding!" I said, holding up my hands. "I'm not seeing anybody right now."

I heard my father breathe a sigh of relief, but to his credit he didn't say anything. My momma on the other hand . . .

"Oh well, chère, I hope you're not lonely out there in the big city."

"Well now Momma, I didn't say I was alone now did I," I smirked and tossed a handful of peanuts into my mouth.

Momma blushed and Daddy huffed, "I will not have you parading your proclivities in front of your mother, Jasper!"

I felt myself bristle. "My proclivities?"

"Yes. Your proclivities. It's damned . . . hedonistic," he finally spat out.

I nearly choked on a peanut. There was my father: conservative, Catholic, a cop—a real man's man—and he was taking me to task about my apparent promiscuity, not the fact that I slept with men. I shook my head in wonder. "Damn Daddy and Aunt Mimi's wasn't hedonistic?"

"Remy Hale Whitlock! You and I will be having a talk later," Momma barked.

Daddy shot me a look that told me I was in a world of shit when he got me alone.

"Now chère," Daddy said to Momma. "Don't you fret your pretty little head about Aunt Mimi's. I just did what every daddy does for his boy. You know you're the only woman for me," he purred at her as he wrapped her up in his arms and planted one on her that left her breathless.

I grinned. Oh yeah, I knew exactly what side of the family my "proclivities" came from.

Momma smoothed back her hair and gave Daddy a swat on the arm, then turned to me. "You still seeing girls?"

I nodded.

"Well then, I'm sure you'll meet the right one and get settled down. Your daddy and I are expecting lots of fat grand bébés."

I laughed. "Alright Momma, I'll do my best."

Of course, I hadn't told them about Maria.

"Oh yeah, just like that baby," Maria crooned in my ear.

"Like this?" I asked and circled my hips.

"I see you started without me?"

I grinned down at Maria. "We got tired of waiting. You know how impatient she is."

Maria slapped me on the ass for that.

"Hmmm, don't I know it," came the reply.

I continued to pump in and out of her, languid and slow. I heard clothing hitting the floor, then felt the bed dip down next to me.

"You two look beautiful."

I hadn't told my parents about Peter either.

I felt fingers in my hair and my head was tugged to the side. Lips met mine in a slow, soft dance. I groaned into Peter's mouth. Fuck. He always tasted so good. His fingers ghosted over my back, down to my ass, where he squeezed and massaged and teased.

"Fuuuck, Peter," I moaned, dropping my forehead down to Maria's. I shook my head slightly to clear it, and looked up at him. "You ready to taste your wife on my cock?" I asked, prepared to let him take over fucking Maria while he sucked me off, which was our usual arrangement.

"Oh no, not tonight," he replied. "I think I deserve a little treat since you two decided to start without me." He leaned over me, kissing my neck, biting my earlobe and whispered, "No. Tonight I'm going to fuck that beautiful ass of yours, Jasper."

My breath hitched. I'd bottomed a few times, and while I generally preferred to top, I considered myself to be a versatile enough lover for the right partner. And being the filling of a Peter and Maria sandwich? Well hell that was definitely the right partner!

"Fuck yes," was my ever so eloquent reply.

Peter chuckled against my skin, and a few moments later I felt the cold drizzle of lube and Peter's finger sliding into my ass. I lurched forward into Maria, unused to the intrusion.

"Easy baby," Peter crooned, massaging my back with his other hand.

I forced myself to relax. It had been a long time, but Peter worked slow and sure, easing me into the rhythm, then introduced another finger, stretching me, preparing me. After a few minutes, he removed his fingers and I heard the tear of the condom wrapper and the click of the cap on the lube, as he prepared himself. Then he was pressing against me, and I stilled my movements, my eyes locking with Maria's.

"Relax baby," she whispered, and leaned up to kiss me.

Peter pushed forward and his head slipped in. I gasped and twitched inside her. Her lips found mine again, and I felt her squeezing tight around me, distracting me, and I groaned into her mouth. Peter waited a moment then moved forward a bit more. Then he pulled back and pushed forward again, slowly working me, relaxing me, loosening me, inch by inch until finally he pushed all the way in, and leaned over my back, kissing me along my neck, wrapping his arm around my torso.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Oh god, yes."

Peter laughed quietly and said, "Good, because now I'm going to fuck you both, hard."

And he was as good as his word. He pulled back and slammed forward again, his balls slapping against my thighs. Each of his thrusts pushed me into Maria, causing her to whimper in pleasure. Eventually we worked out a rhythm where I managed to pull out of Maria a bit before he thrust into me, driving me back into her.

He was, most definitely, fucking us both.

"Christ Jasper," he panted as he slammed into me again. "I love fucking you, fucking you both. So good," he muttered.

Maria was a mess of whimpers, groans and sighs. Her pupils were dilated and her mouth was open as she gasped for breath.

"Oh shit . . . oh . . . ahhhhhhh!" she cried out as she came, her muscles fluttering and pulsing around me.

"Sweet fuck!" I moaned as I followed her, unable to continue under the onslaught of sensation. I'd never been so overwhelmed, so fucking over stimulated in my life, and I came with the force of freight train, my ass clamping tight on Peter.

"Damn," he muttered. I felt his hand slide into my hair and he pulled my head back, his other hand on my hip, leveraging his movements more since I didn't have to stay inside Maria. His hips thrust faster as he fucked me hard, our skin slapping and echoing in the room. "Yessss," he hissed as he drove in a final time and came deep inside me, his hips making small movements as he pulsed and spent himself.

When he was done, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled us both to the side, sliding out of me but not releasing me yet.

My eyes were closed and I was enjoying the feeling of being held by both of them. "Fucking hell, Peter. Why haven't we done that before?" I asked.

I felt him laughing behind me, while Maria reached over and ruffled my hair, and we all started to chuckle. And that's what I loved about being with Maria and Peter; it was always easy, always light, always . . . fun. No strings, no expectations, just acceptance and fun. We all fell asleep tangled in each other, but I woke a few hours later and slipped out.

As often happened when I was with my lovers, I was wired and inspired. I made my way back to my loft and several hours later, I was staring at a mostly finished canvas portraying the three of us. Of course, no one would actually recognize who was in the painting, but I would . . . and I knew Peter and Maria would as well.

Before meeting them my work was tepid, restrained. But Maria, and eventually Peter, opened my eyes to my own sexuality, and to understand that it did not have to be confined by the small town, conservative mores I'd been raised with. After meeting them, my burgeoning sex life became reflected in my work; the freedom I'd found in sex mirrored in my artwork. It became more playful, more sensual, and eventually I found a way to outright combine the two—painting my lovers, inspired by them.

I met Alice during our third year in school when I decided to a take a class on silk screening. She was cute and elfin, and I would have liked to fuck her to see if she was as limber as she appeared, but she was dating a guy named Felix at the time, total asshole, but by the time she figured it out and they broke up, Alice and I'd become good friends and she wasn't the "no-strings-attached" type. So, we just remained good friends. Good and platonic friends.

When she first started talking to me about her brother, Edward, I thought maybe she was trying to set us up, but then she went on about this girl and that girl that she'd set him up with, and I assumed he was straight, particularly after Alice met Rose during Spring Break and decided to try and set them up. There were a couple of times I nearly met him, but the timing just never worked out.

Until the night of our graduation exhibits.

I saw them walk in together, and I knew it was Edward immediately. Alice had always complained about his wild, hair, and even though Edward was tall and broad shouldered, in comparison to Alice's tiny frame, their coloring—auburn hair (which Alice dyed black), and vivid green eyes—coupled with their lush mouths, made it very clear that they were related.

And fucking hell was he gorgeous. As much as I'd wanted to fuck Alice when I first met her, seeing Edward was like pouring kerosene on a fire. Still, Alice had insisted that we introduce Edward and Rose, so I tried to rein in my attraction. I stood along the back wall, watching them move through the crowd.

I saw Edward tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with Alice's pick—and I had no doubt Alice chose his clothes since she often wailed over his sartorial choices. I watched him eye the crowd warily. It was obvious he didn't want to be there, and it was equally obvious that he didn't care for the people present. I strolled around the edge of the room, studying him. I saw him grab a glass of wine, and as Alice wandered off, his eyes found me.

I can honestly say I've never been so thoroughly eye-fucked in my life. I felt naked under his gaze. Exposed. Aroused. His face radiated desire and lust, and oh my fuck, it was exhilarating. When he realized he was busted, the most glorious blush spread across his skin, and I wanted to touch that heated flesh and see if it felt as good as it looked. He turned and tried to make an escape, although I did see him stumble. I followed him through the exhibits, standing to the back, keeping myself hidden by bystanders and pillars.

Nothing interested him, and I think I saw him snort in derision at one or two of the exhibits. I felt butterflies as we approached mine. What would he think? Would he be as contemptuous of my work as he was of the others? And since when did I care what someone thought of my work? I'd learned to shelve the need for approval in my artwork; striving instead to create what felt right to me, yet there I was hoping and praying that this beautiful man would like my paintings.

There was no snort.

There was no sneer.

There was no roll of his eyes.

Instead there was curiosity.

There was interest.

There was . . . excitement?

I saw Edward stare at one that I knew was me and a lovely boy named Jake, and although I always kept my subjects ambiguous, androgynous even at times, I couldn't help but feel that Edward was seeing the scene for exactly what it was.

And that turned me on to no end.

I walked up behind him and whispered in his ear, although what I really wanted to do was grab his hips, grind my hard on against his ass, and tell him how thoroughly I was planning on fucking him, but since we weren't in a club, and since he was my friend's brother, I restrained myself . . . a little.

From the sound of his voice and his reactions to me as I continued to whisper in his ear, he was turned on and on edge as I was. But I saw Alice heading our way and snuck off before she could corner us. I still wasn't sure what was going on. Was Edward bi, like me? In which case I would have to back off and give Rose a chance. Or, was he in the closet and appeasing his family?

I kept an eye on Alice, who'd found Rose, who was busy ogling Emmett McCarty. Emmett was a good guy; he took a couple years off of school to take care of his mom when she was dying, so he wasn't going to graduate until after us, but the metalwork sculptures that he welded were just amazing. He was a big, good looking man. In fact, he looked more like an NFL lineman than a sculptor but he was absolutely Rose's type. I nearly lost sight of Edward slipping into a supply room as I tried to get Rose's attention.

I jerked my head in Edward's direction, pointed at her and waggled my hand in the universal "so-what-do-you-think" gesture and she shook her head—not interested. Good. I'd never filch someone Rose wanted. Then her eyebrows went up and she grinned at me. I nodded and laughed before heading off in search of Edward.

Catching Edward in the supply room was fun.

He was off his game. Awkward. Adorable. Shy. And a mess of other adjectives that all meant he was stuttering his replies and backing away from me, while still licking his lips and staring at my mouth. When I told him I wanted to paint him and he replied that we weren't lovers, the "yet" hung so desperately in the air, I couldn't deny him.

If catching Edward in the supply room was fun, fucking Edward in the supply room was a god damned revelation.

I'd never had a partner who was so responsive, so completely taken up in the moment, so utterly yielding to me. It was consuming and overwhelming, and frankly, the best fuck of my life. It knocked me off my axis and left me feeling spun out. I needed to regain control of myself, so like the smart ass that I was, I kissed him, and thanked him using his name, knowing it would confuse him, and then beat feet out of there.

I have to admit to a perverse pleasure in watching Edward's facial expressions when we were finally "introduced." Like I said, smart ass. But his reaction after, the way he squeezed my hand when we shook, the way he snarled in anger at me when he asked me to show him my work, made me realize that I'd taken things too far, and that Edward was probably very confused and hurt. So I apologized to him for my deceit and honestly explained what passed between us. I was a smart ass, but I've always prided myself on not being a total asshole. It may be a fine line, but there is a difference.

As much as I tried to feel contrite and hold back, I couldn't get over my attraction to him. He was just so fucking beautiful, and I couldn't wait to get him back into my bed, or rather actually into my bed. I couldn't wait to run my hands over his body once more, with more time to explore all that sensual energy he exuded. I couldn't wait to see what other responses I could provoke and evoke. And I really couldn't fucking wait to put him on canvas.

I reached out and ran my thumb along his mouth, imagining him sucking on it, his perfect, pink tongue flicking over it. "You really are beautiful," I told him. "Alice was right about that."

That gorgeous blush of his resurfaced . . . I was going to need to create an entirely new color to define it. The stammering was back, but I silenced him and asked if he wanted to leave with me, praying inside that I hadn't screwed things up between us, because I really was nowhere near done with him yet.

His enthusiastic response nearly made me hard again, and I grabbed his hand and pulled him over to Rose and Alice. And then?

He came out of the fucking closet.

Just like that.

It was the bravest, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

And I think it was the moment I fell in love with Edward Cullen.

* * *

_a/n: What's the bravest thing you've ever seen?_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hello? Anyone still out there? I know it's been ridiculously long since I've updated this story, but I have not forgotten it. I was unavoidably detained by my need to vent my emo in TGAAM and by the lure of playing with my favorite Viking for the **Age of Eric One Shot Contest** (details bellow).  
_

_A great big thanks as always to **Chicklette** for her beta eyes. Any mistakes still here are all mine, particularly when I went red pen crazy on my own while waiting for her reply. *hangs head*_

_Thanks to everyone who has put me and/or this story on alert, and to the ladies and gents who support my crazy endeavors.  
_

* * *

Jasper and I ran out of the exhibit hand in hand. My heart was racing and I could feel that my cheeks were flushed. My body was thrumming with excitement. We rushed outside without a care, and within minutes we were soaked to the bone by a sudden downpour.

I didn't even know where we were headed, I just ran down the street, giddy with the adrenalin coursing through my system, until I felt Jasper pull my hand and yell, "Edward! Edward!"

I turned to look at him and his eyes were shining with excitement, energy, desire. He pulled me under an awning and pushed me against the wall. "That is the hottest fucking thing I've seen in," he paused for a beat, "I don't know how long, but fuck." The "fuck" was drawn out with his accent, and his hips pressed against mine as he kissed me, his hands clutched the lapels of my jacket and his body crushed me against the wall.

I groaned against into his mouth and pushed myself against him, hard and hot and wanting. "Tell me you live close by," I panted as he moved his mouth across my jaw and down my throat.

"Close enough, chère" he growled.

Ten minutes later we were making our way up the stairwell of a building. We only had three stories to go, but it took us a good fifteen minutes to make the climb because we kept stopping to kiss and torment each other along the way. By the second landing my shirt was open, the buttons scattered somewhere on the stairs and I had Jasper pinned against the wall, grinding against him like a high school kid with raging hormones.

His shirt clung to him, a second skin with his nipples showing hard against the fabric. His rain darkened hair was a wavy mess; it made him look wild and predatory. His eyes were darker, hungrier, and his lips were red and swollen from my kisses.

My mouth moved along whatever bits of skin I could find—his cheeks, his chin, his throat, his neck, his ears, I even pulled down the neck of his shirt so I could lick his collar bones. His hands scrabbled under my clothes and over my back, the rain having made my skin slick and slippery, until he finally gripped me by the hair and tugged my head back.

Looking me in the eyes he said, "I _am_ going to fuck you again beautiful, and I have no qualms about doing it right here, but I'd really prefer to take you to my bed, chère."

I think the only response I managed was a whimper and a nod.

Jasper smiled, wide and beautiful, then grabbed my hand and pulled me the rest of the way up to his loft.

I hardly paid attention to a thing inside; all of my attention was on the stunning man in front of me as I allowed him to pull and push me to his bed. We fought our way out of our wet clothes, laughing as Jasper's pants tangled around his ankles and at the difficulty I had removing my wet socks. Finally though, we were standing naked before each other.

I felt my skin heat as Jasper's gaze roamed over my body. "Perfect," I heard him whisper. My blush started at my toes and traveled through me, until I could feel the heat of it in the tips of my ears. I dropped my eyes. "Oh no, chère, don't ever look away from me," he whispered as he wrapped a hand behind my neck and brought his mouth to mine.

As frantic and desperate as we'd been in the stairwell, our movements morphed into something slower, softer, more deliberate. His arms wrapped around me as he kissed me deep, his hand skimming up and down my skin and, finally, cupping my ass and pulling me even closer.

We crawled onto the bed. Jasper pushed me over so I was lying on my stomach, and began to kiss and caress every inch of my body. His lips ghosted over my neck, and I felt his tongue flick out along my skin. He hovered over me, close enough that I felt his heat but without allowing any of his weight on me.

He was a butterfly along my skin. Touching, tasting, kissing, down my spine and over my shoulder blades. Along the crease of my armpits and down each arm, taking extra time at the crook of my elbows and then sucking on each finger in turn, until I was writhing and whimpering with pleasure.

Then he was gone, until I felt him begin a similar process at my feet, worshipping me up each leg, until he was at my ass. He kissed and fondled each cheek, before biting the soft flesh gently. By that point I was shamelessly grinding into his bed, desperate for some friction, and begging Jasper for something, anything. I don't think I was even coherent.

And then he parted my cheeks and I felt his tongue along the crack of my ass. The moan that escaped me was low and deep. Jasper pulled my hips up slightly and held them, denying me the ability to pump against his bed, but then his tongue fluttered against my opening. Once. Twice. Three gentle teases, before he took a long, slow lick up the center.

"Oh god," I moaned, my voice wanton and hoarse.

He continued to work his tongue over me and in me, until I was crazed with need. My hand reached down to grab my cock, but he batted it away with a growl, "Mine."

"Please, Jasper," I begged. "Fuck me, oh god, please, please, please . . ." my voice trailed off in a desperate wail as I felt one, then two fingers slide into me.

Jasper's fingers continued to fuck me as he curved over my back, his other hand gripping my waist. "Is this what you want?" he punctuated a thrust of his hand with a curl of his fingers, hitting my prostate.

"Yes!"

"Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you look like this?"

I shook my head, but shuddered as his fingers continued their delicious assault.

"You look like the most wanton angel. Your skin is perfect alabaster, smooth as silk under my fingers," he continued as the hand gripping my waist moved across my abdomen. "Your hair is wild, and Jesus, your body, Edward . . ." he trailed off as I felt him buck against me.

I nearly cried when he pulled his fingers out of me, but then he turned me to lie on my back.

And began the process all over again.

I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the tight edge he had me on. When he sucked and nipped at my nipples, my body bucked until he sat across my thighs, pinning me down.

"Jasper, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he teased.

"Please, touch me. I need to come. Please, please—"

"Like this?" he asked, just before his mouth enveloped the head of my cock.

"Fuck yessssss," tore out of my throat, turning into whimpers and groans as he slid his beautiful mouth up and down my dick. "Yes, yes, yes," I chanted as I felt the familiar tingle and tightness in my balls.

And then he stopped.

"Fucking hell, Jasper!" I shouted. I looked down to see the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

"C'mon now chère, don't be like that," he purred at me.

"Jasper, you can't just stop like that! I . . . I . . ." words began to fail me as he began to make slow, deliberate strokes up and down my shaft.

"You were saying something?" he teased.

"Hmmm," was all I managed.

Then his mouth was on me again.

Start.

Stop.

Start.

Stop.

Jasper kept me on edge for what felt like forever.

"Jasper, I have to come. You have to let me come!" I was nearly in tears from the frustration and tension and just the need to fucking come already.

"Oh, you're gonna come chère. You're gonna come with my cock inside you."

A moment later I felt the cool sensation of his lube slicked fingers preparing me, then he was inside me, pushing all the way in with one, smooth thrust.

"FUUUUUUCK!" I shouted.

"Jesus, baby," he panted against my neck. "So good. You feel so fucking good." Then he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, his hands gripping my hips, my legs up over his arms, spread wide for him.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I chanted over and over, the ability for any other speech being fucked right out of me.

"Yeah baby, that's it, Edward. That's it beautiful. Come for me."

Two more thrusts of his hips and I was coming harder than I ever had in my life. Screams ripped out of me from the sheer pleasure of it, and finally the tears I'd been verging on as Jasper tortured me so deliciously spilled over.

I heard his deep groan and felt him pulse inside of me, and a quiet "fuck yes," escaping him as he came. His hips stilled, then twitched and finally stilled again, before he collapsed on top of me.

Then he noticed my tears.

"Oh god, baby, did I hurt you?"

I shook my head.

"Please look at me, Edward. Please open your eyes."

I opened my eyes, knowing that the tears were still coming, but I couldn't stop them.

"You . . . you didn't hurt me," I managed to stutter out.

Jasper's hand moved to smooth the hair away from my face, brushing the sweaty strands that stuck to my forehead over to the side. His eyes didn't leave mine. "Then what's wrong chère? Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, it's just . . . overwhelming. I've never," I shook my head. "I've never experienced anything like that. That was . . ." I felt like an idiot, unable to express what I feeling. "No one has ever made me feel like that."

Jasper pulled out of me carefully and then kissed me. "I'll be right back," he whispered. He returned a minute later with a wet washcloth and gently, almost reverently, cleaned me. When he was done he tossed the washcloth to the side and gathered me in his arms.

We lay there quietly for a while, recovering our breath, our equilibrium.

"I'm sorry about before," I began, ashamed of my reaction.

"Hush now chère," he chided. "There's nothing to be sorry for. In fact," his voice lowered, "I can't tell you how much I like the fact that I made you feel that way."

"Yeah?" I asked, trying to gauge if he was just making me feel better or really felt that way.

"Oh yeah," he responded, and pressed against me. I could feel him hard against me once more.

"You can't possibly be ready to go again," I murmured.

"Oh chère," he thrust against me. "This is what you do to me, Edward." He pulled my face to him and began to kiss me. We kissed slow and languid for a bit, before he reached for his nightstand and grabbed another condom.

"You're going to be the death of me," I whispered as he pushed into me again. My face was buried against my own bicep, as Jasper held my leg up.

He curled around me, his chest pressed up tight against my back, his lips on my neck, as he moved leisurely behind me, a slow rhythm that never faltered, never sped up, and took me to the sweetest crescendo.

"Beautiful, I haven't even begun," he whispered against my skin.

I don't know how long we kept at it. I know that I've never come so many times in one night. I came with Jasper inside me and with his hand around me. I came in his mouth and on his stomach. I came without him touching my cock at all. I finally begged, actually begged him to let me sleep a little. He chuckled and wrapped me up in his arms, and I fell asleep to the beat of his heart against my back.

I awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows. I turned to find Jasper, but the bed was empty. Quelling my disappointment, I wrapped the sheet around myself and got up. I chuckled as I moved a little stiffly, my muscles sore from the night before, unused to the rigorous workout they received.

I could hear music coming from the other side of the loft. I padded across the wood floors, enjoying the places where the sunlight that streamed in from the giant windows warmed the pine. The windows were set into a long expanse of brick that gave the space an older, lived in feel.

Canvases covered nearly every wall and I immediately recognized them as Jasper's work. I walked into a space delineated by I-beams, a drafting table, and a low, flat file bank of drawers. An easel was set in the middle with a partially finished painting. I flushed as I realized the scene was of Jasper and I. Only I would know it was me, but the ecstasy on my face was so clear, it was almost embarrassing. I turned and caught sight of a sketchbook thrown on the drafting table.

It was open and I could see sketches of me, so I began to look. After the first I kept flipping pages.

_Me looking at someone, eyes heavy lidded and lips parted._

_My head thrown back, eyes closed, hands clutching the sheets._

_On my knees in front of an unidentified torso._

_A full body sketch of me sleeping on my stomach, my head turned to the side and resting on my arm._

_A close up of me sleeping, on my back this time, arm flung over my head and bent at the elbow, lips slightly parted._

I heard a toilet flush and spun around to see Jasper walk out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of boxers, but nothing else, and there were smears of paint on his chest, his shoulder, even across his cheek.

"You're awake," he said with a grin.

"I . . . I . . . is this how you see me?" I gestured to the sketchbook, the canvas.

Jasper's brows furrowed. "Why? Don't you like it?"

"I do. It's just . . . just—"

"Just what?"

"You make me look beautiful," I whispered as I looked at the sketchbook again.

I felt Jasper behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist and his chin rested on my shoulder as we both looked down at the drawing of me in an obvious state of orgasm. "That's because you _are_ beautiful, Edward. I don't make you look beautiful. If anything, I feel inadequate to the task of showing the world how magnificent you are."

I shook my head, unwilling to believe it. I knew I was a handsome man. I'd never had trouble finding a trick at the clubs, but what Jasper drew? It couldn't be me.

"No. I'm not—"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that you're beautiful, chère?"

"Only my mom, but, you know, she was my mom," I said chuckling. "I knew she was biased."

"No she wasn't. She was honest," he responded, then turned me in his arms and kissed me, pulling the sheet away from my body. "You are more than beautiful," he said between kisses.

I could feel my body respond to his, as if it hadn't been completely spent just hours before. I pulled away and wrapped the sheet around myself again, knowing I needed some coffee and something to eat before we went down that road again.

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked, gesturing to the studio.

"Nah," he said as he shrugged. "Coffee?"

"Oh god, yes."

Jasper lead me over to the kitchen and poured us both some coffee that was already brewed.

"I don't sleep much usually, and when I get inspired," he looked at me, heat radiating from his eyes, "I have to let it out."

I blushed at his stare, and took a sip of my coffee. I was about to ask him why he didn't usually sleep, when my stomach let out a rumble.

He grinned at me. "Well, I think it's time for breakfast!"

I shook my head, thoroughly embarrassed by my body.

"Don't be embarrassed, chère. You worked up one hell of an appetite," he said with a smirk. He opened the refrigerator and began taking things out. "How do you like your eggs?"

I don't know how Jasper pulled it all together or how much he prepared while I was still asleep, but twenty minutes later I was eating what he called "a real Cajun breakfast." Eggs, grits, beignets, bacon and sausage. I was so hungry, I ate everything on my plate, and even grabbed seconds of the beignets with another cup of his delicious coffee, which I discovered was a chicory coffee from New Orleans.

I was sitting and twirling my fork in the remnants of my grits, when Jasper said, "Penny for your thoughts, chère."

"Alice."

"Ah," he replied.

"I really did come out to my sister last night, didn't I? And then I just left. She's probably furious."

"Oh come now, Alice would never hold it against you. She's got no problems with homosexuality."

"Jasper, I can promise you one thing: Alice is angrier than a hornet right now." I held up my hand to forestall his argument. "And no, you're right, it's not because I'm gay. It's because I waited until now, until last night, to tell her." I dropped my head into my hands and tugged at my hair.

"Hey there," he said as he grabbed my hands. "It's going to be fine. Sure, she'll be a little bent out of shape, but she'll get over it. 'Sides, I have no doubt Rose helped smooth her ruffled feathers last night."

I groaned. "Oh god! She wanted to set me up with Rose! Your sister probably hates me now!"

Jasper snorted. "Do you think I'd horn in on my sister's potential 'date' without clearing it with her first?" he asked. At what I'm sure was my stunned look he continued, "I made sure she wasn't interested in you before I followed you into that storeroom, Edward. I'm not a complete asshole." He turned and began tossing pans into the sink.

I got up, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed his neck. "I didn't think you were," I said placating him. He turned and hugged me back, kissing me. I finally pulled away. "I have to go, Jasper. I have to talk to her."

"I know," he said.

I walked back to the "bedroom," picking up my clothes along the way. When I got there, I dropped the sheet to get dressed and I heard a moan behind me. I turned, but when I saw the look on Jasper's face, all thoughts of talking to Alice flew out of my head. The clothes fell out of my hands as Jasper stalked over to me.

"I can't let you leave yet."

I backed up until I was against the wall. "Why not?"

"Because I didn't have dessert," he replied, then dropped to his knees in front of me and took me into his mouth.

One hour, and two orgasms later, Jasper finally let me leave. I made my very dazed way to a cab and hardly even registered the forty minute drive home.

The door flew open before I even got my key all the way in.

"You asshole!" Alice spat at me.

"Good morning to you too," I replied as I stepped past her into my house. Although it was my house—I'd let Alice keep our parents' house after they died—she had a key and made good use of it.

"I can't believe you never told me! Do you know how stupid I feel?"

"I'm sorry," I said, because really, what else could I say?

"You're sorry? You lied to me!"

"I never lied to you, Alice," I said. "I never told you I was interested in women."

"A lie of omission," she countered. "You let me set you up with all those women, Edward! What the hell else was I supposed to think? And what? You didn't trust me? Did you think I was so shallow that I couldn't handle it?" Tears were streaming down her face. "I thought we could tell each other anything. I thought . . ." she choked up. "I thought since all we had left was each other that I mattered, but I guess . . ." she turned and began to walk away, grabbing her keys and her bag.

"Alice!"

She kept going.

"ALICE!" I shouted and ran after her, grabbing her by the shoulders and hugging her tight. "Please, don't leave," I choked out, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. "Please. Let me explain," I begged as I held her tight.

After a moment she nodded, and I slowly let her go. She turned and walked toward the kitchen, not even looking at me. I followed her, wiping the wetness from my face, and when she sat at the table I did the same.

"Okay, I'm listening," she said.

So I explained it to her. I told her how I figured out I was gay when I was with Bella during my senior year of high school. How I was embarrassed and confused. How it took me years to accept it for myself, and that not long after, before I could even decide if I wanted to come out, our parents died.

"Then it was just you and me, and I don't know, Ali," I said. "I just didn't know _how_ to tell you. It wasn't something I could just blurt out over breakfast. And you were so set on fixing me up with someone, that I wasn't sure how you would take it," I admitted.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, and then . . . "Does this mean we can go get manicures together now?"

"Jesus Christ, Alice!"

She was shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry, Edward! It was just a joke!"

I shook my head. "Not funny."

"Admit it. It was a little bit funny."

I bit my tongue, trying not to laugh and shook my head. "Nope. Not funny."

Before I knew it though, we were both hysterically laughing. Finally, Alice was clutching her stomach. "Okay, stop, please," she begged.

I took a few breaths until I stopped laughing, and then asked, "You're really okay with this?"

"Edward, you're my brother, and I adore you, of course I'm okay with this. How could you ever doubt that I would be? All those women? I just wanted you to be happy," she said as she cupped my face in her hands. "You took care of me after Mom and Dad died. I just wanted to take care of you too."

"You did, Ali. You do," I replied covering her hands with my own. "You're the best sister I could have ever wished for."

"Okay, now I know you're gay," she deadpanned.

"Bitch," I muttered.

She smirked. "So, Jasper?"

I blushed and nodded.

"Well, I thought Rose was right for you, but I guess I wasn't too far off the mark if her brother floats your boat, was I?"

I laughed. "No, I guess you weren't."

"So? You spent the night? Did you sleep with him? Were you safe?"

"Alice! I'm not getting into the details of my sex life with you!"

"So you admit that you had sex?"

I stood up, walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a Diet Coke. "I'm not listening," I said.

"Okay, fine. Don't share the details, but," she hesitated. "I like Jasper, I really do. He's a good friend, but Edward, I'm not going to lie to you. Jasper is a player. I've known him for a couple of years now and he's never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, never seemed to want one."

I gripped the can tight, but tried not to show my worry.

"I don't want to rain on your parade, Edward. Really, I don't. I just . . . I just want you to be careful, okay?"

I nodded at her, unable to trust my voice. She came over and hugged me, then wrinkled her nose. "Oh, eeewww. Go take a shower. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, and you are so buying." Then she walked out and left.

I sagged against the counter. I don't know why her words hit me so hard. It's not like I expected someone I'd just met to be committed to me, but there was something there between Jasper and I, or at least I thought there was. What if this was just the way he was? What if there was no "next time?" The thought made my stomach clench.

I decided that I wasn't going to worry about it just then. I had work I needed to do. Tanya's piece needed to be finished in two days, and as I lifted my arm and took a sniff, I also realized Alice was right—I really did need to take a shower.

One hour, a water tank of hot water, and another cup of coffee later, I was sitting at my piano working on Tanya's piece. It wasn't until much, much later as I crawled into my bed and pulled the cool sheets over me that I allowed myself to think about Jasper, about the incomparable pleasure he brought me, about the way he saw me or, how secure I felt when he held me in his arms as I fell asleep.

* * *

_a/n: I hope that made up for the long delay. Oui? _

_Also, have to point out the best beta note I've ever gotten: "Also, if you break Edward's heart, I'm gonna break your face. Js. ;)" **Chicklette**, you are epic win! LOL!_

_Need to pimp out the **Age of Eric contest** here: http :/ www . fanfiction . net/u/2424937/The_Age_of_Eric_Contest You have until the 6th to enter your submission. Please check out my entry, and the others here: http: / www . fanfiction . net/community/The_Age_of_Eric_Contest/83524/99/0/1/ And then remember to come back and vote when it opens. Even if you haven't read the Southern Vampire Mysteries, you should check them out. Most of them are non-canonical, or at least don't require knowledge of the books and, c'mon, it's Eric Northman. Now I **know** you guys know who that is!  
_

_Also, go check out the stories in the **Plot Bunny Contest** http : / www . fanfiction . net/community/Plot_Bunny_Contest/82048/99/0/1/ There's some good reads there!_

_Finally, I need to give a shout out to a couple of fics that I'm reading right now that I adore._

_**Chicklette's Of Kith and Kin: **http : / www . fanfiction . net/s/6148438/1/Of_Kith_and_Kin (And, okay, I'll admit that as one of her beta's I may be biased, but it's soooo good.)  
_

_**Conversed's Twinned:** http : / www . fanfiction . net/s/5960142/1/ (Probably one of the best Jasper's I've ever read. He wears a kilt. Need I say more?)  
_

_Go read and enjoy!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hello darlings! *gasp* I know, I know. It's once again been indecently long since I've updated, but in my defense I was busy writing other things as well. *sigh* Is that excuse getting old? It is, I know it is. Shit. I need some new material. Anyway, Paintsper finally decided to start talking to me again, and you know he always gets his way, so you can thank his horny ass for this update. _

_Big huge thanks to **Chicklette** for her beta brain and patience with me. 3 3 3 you! Any mistakes still here are all mine.  
_

_As always, SM owns them, I just make them fuck . . . a lot.  
_

* * *

Loud banging on the door woke me up.

"Go away," I muttered into my pillow.

The banging didn't stop.

"Mother fucker," I swore. I got up and padded over to the door. "This better be fucking good," I complained, as I lifted the locking arm and slid the door open a foot.

"I always am," Maria answered.

I snorted and turned, heading back to my bed.

"Come in if you're coming in," I said. "You can cuddle up or watch me, but I'm going back to sleep."

"You really do have a beautiful ass," she said. "Do you always answer the door naked?"

I shrugged. "Someone dragged me out of bed." I fell on top of the sheets, bunched the pillow up under my arms, and closed my eyes. "Now hush up, chère, and let me get back to it."

I heard Maria laugh and felt the bed dip with her weight as she curled up next to me.

When I woke again it was dark outside. I heard rain against the windows, and the low hum of the stereo told me that Maria was still there. I fished a pair of sweatpants off the floor, pulled them on, and padded over to kitchen.

The coffee pot was half full and I sniffed it.

"It's fresh," Maria said.

"Thanks," I replied. I poured a cup and sweetened it just how I liked, then leaned back against the counter and looked at Maria. "Not that I mind, but to what do I owe this visit?"

"When you didn't show up to play with us last night, I got worried. But now I see that everything is fine. More than fine from the look of it," she explained and gestured to where I had several sketchbooks and two canvases spread out.

"Last night?" I asked. "We weren't supposed to get together until Saturday."

"It's Sunday." Maria spoke slowly. "Christ, Jasper, just how long were you up?"

"Sunday? It's Sunday?" The exhibit and my night with Edward had been on Thursday. After he left, I started working—sketching and painting in a frenzy. Edward had ignited something in me, and I needed to get it out while it was all fresh in my mind.

"Jasper?"

"Crap, chère, I have no idea." I rubbed my face with my hand. "You know how I get."

"Yes, I know, _mijo_. I told Peter you were probably caught up, but from the looks of things, I'm wondering just how caught up you are."

Maria looked at me, and when I say Maria looked at me, I mean into the heart of me. I couldn't ever bullshit her. She walked over to the sketches.

"Jasper, this is . . . different. Who is he?"

She was right, the work was different. The sketches were intimate, more so than usual, and the canvases were much more realistic, less amorphous and definitely more evocative. I kept Edward's identity hidden in the paintings, in shadows or by turning his face away, but there was no doubt it was the same subject throughout and there was no doubting the intimate nature of the scene.

"He's Alice's brother, Edward."

Maria tapped her finger against her lip. "Alice's brother? Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't get any ideas. He's the only one who doesn't swing straight."

She sighed. "I can always dream, can't I?"

See? I wasn't the only one who'd had a thing for Alice.

I stood and looked at one of the sketches. It was Edward in the stock room at the exhibit as I went down on him. His head was thrown back, so you couldn't see his face, but his pleasure, his orgasm was plain as day. I drew what I remembered when I'd looked up at him: each tendon in his neck was stretched taut, and his chest was tight and beautiful. His hands had fisted my hair so hard it hurt, but in that good way that pain can just border pleasure, and the sketch showed the tight knuckled grip. His hips were thrust forward, like he was fucking my mouth, and I suppose he was.

I felt Maria behind me. She rested her chin on my shoulder. "He's beautiful."

"Yes, he is."

"You seem quite enamored."

"Inspired. There's a difference."

She knew it too.

"A new muse?"

"Jealous?"

Maria shook her head. "Not my style, _mijo_."

Maria continued to look over what I'd worked on, and I listened to my messages. Rose, Maria, a pretty boy named Seth from a while back, my mom, and Edward.

I double checked the date stamp on the message, Saturday morning.

"_Hi Jasper, ummm, it's me, Edward." Long pause. "I hope you don't mind, but I got your number from Alice. I was wondering if you wanted to get together later. Maybe grab a bite to eat? I know it's the last minute, but ummm, yeah. Anyway, call me if you have some time . . ." _

His voice trailed off after leaving his number and then he made an awkward goodbye.

"He sounds sweet." Maria lit a cigarette, which I promptly stole from her.

"He is," I said. I licked my lips, took a drag and as I exhaled, I smirked at her and said, "So's his personality."

Her laugh echoed through the loft and she walked over to me. "Always with your mind in the gutter," she teased.

"A trait you encourage," I countered.

"True enough." She ran her hand over my chest.

I captured it and shook my head. "I'm tired, Maria, and I have some phone calls to make," I said with a nod in the direction of the phone.

"The calls can wait. What's another hour or two?" Her other hand snaked down and found my burgeoning erection. "I see the South has risen again." She dropped to her knees, pulling my sweats down with her and taking me into her mouth in one quick movement.

"Fuuuuck," I drawled out as my head fell back. The woman had a mouth like hot silk, all wet satin and warm suction, and in within minutes I couldn't remember why I tried to turn her down.

After, when we were both loose and languid in my bed, she said, "The sketches, Jasper? I haven't seen you work like that before."

"You've seen me sketch."

"Not like that, _mijo_." She lifted her head from my stomach and looked at me. "He's done something to you."

I snorted. "Done something to me? What? Do you think he's 'dazzled' me? Ensorcelled me? I know, maybe he's a _brujo_," I teased.

"_Hijo de la gran _. . ." She paused and took a breath. "Jasper, don't be an ass. I know you. I know your work. This is different."

I looked at her, at her dark eyes so knowing and earnest. "I don't know, chère." I ran a hand through my hair. "He's . . . different, exciting. He's responsive and sensual and brazen, but he's also innocent, you know? There's no hard edges, no sharp corners. Shit, he only came out to Alice on Thursday."

At Maria's shocked expression, I continued. "I know, right? I mean he just grabbed my hand and did it and walked out with me. He fucked me in a storeroom, but he blushes when I tell him he's beautiful. Not gonna lie, it's a little intoxicating."

"He got under your skin, baby."

I shook my head. "No. No he hasn't," I said. I didn't work that way. I didn't let anyone get under my skin, and I cared for all my lovers in their own way.

"Yes, he has. It's in every picture you drew out there, _mijo_."

"Nah, chère, he's just new and it's fun." I was getting hard again thinking about him. "Speaking of fun . . ."

The morning light filtered through the windows, but when I rolled over the bed was cold. It's not that I expected Maria to stay the night, she rarely did unless it's because we were still fucking well into the morning, but for the first time I felt lonely waking up alone. I shook it off and headed to the kitchen.

After making myself some coffee, I wandered back out into my studio. I stared at the canvas I'd painted of Edward and me, and something in me stirred. Maybe it was guilt. I hadn't called him back yet.

I picked up the phone and dialed, but I hung up when I got his voice mail. I didn't want to just leave him a message. I called Alice.

"Hey beautiful," I said when she answered.

"Hey, Jasper," she replied, but her voice sounded off.

"What's wrong, chère?"

"Nothing," was her quick answer. Too quick. "What do you need, Jasper?"

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" I asked. I sat back on the couch and lit a cigarette. "And don't tell me nothing, Alice."

I heard a sigh. "Shit, Jasper. He's my brother. Not one of your flings."

"Alice, I—"

"I know he called you, and I'm pretty sure you didn't call him back. Am I right?"

"Jesus, Alice. You freak me out sometimes with the shit you know. You really do."

"So I'm right?"

"Yes, but it's not what you think," I said quickly. I didn't want to give her a chance to get mad and hang up. "I was working. You know how I get sometimes." Alice had seen it, when we were in class together. "It's why I'm calling you now. I tried calling him back, but he's not there. I was wondering if I could get his cell number from you. Or, maybe you know where he is?"

"Working all weekend? I'm supposed to believe that?"

"I swear, Alice. I started sometime Thursday night or Friday morning, and kept going after Edward left. I have no idea when I crashed out, but I woke up yesterday and didn't even know what day it was. So please, cut me some slack, okay?"

I heard her sigh. "Fine. I'll give you his cell, but you can't call now because I'm meeting him for lunch—"

"Lunch huh?" There was only one place she made Edward take her for lunch. It was a neighborhood restaurant that their parents used to take them to. I remembered her telling me all about it.

"Jasper, don—"

I hung up because I didn't have a lot of time if I was going to crash their lunch. After taking one of the fastest showers of my life, I slid into a pair of well-worn jeans that were so soft I never bothered with underwear, enjoying the way they hugged my ass and slid against my skin. I kept the rest simple: a white v-neck t-shirt, black Docs and my leather jacket.

Not gonna lie, I knew it was a look that kills and I wanted every advantage if I was going to make nice to Edward. I walked into the restaurant and scanned the room. Alice saw me and her eyes narrowed as I started walking toward them, but she couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth. I put my finger to my lips, asking her to be quiet and she just looked back at Edward, but I saw that she wasn't saying anything.

I snuck up behind him, and over his shoulder I could see his plate of pasta. I leaned down to his ear and whispered, "Mmm, chère, that looks good, but I think you taste better."

His head whipped to side, his eyes were wide, and his lips were almost touching mine. "Jesus," he whispered, his breath ghosting across my mouth.

"Hi there, beautiful."

And for a long moment that was it: just me and Edward and that perfect fucking mouth of his so tantalizingly close.

"Oh wow."

I turned and saw Alice staring at us with the strangest look on her face. "Hey, Al."

She blinked once, twice, then, "Hey, Jas."

"Mind if I join you?" I asked as I pulled out one of the chairs.

"What . . . what are you doing here?" Then he blanched a little. "Oh, yeah, please sit. Sorry." He blushed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice trying not to laugh.

A flustered Edward is very cute.

"You weren't home and I didn't feel like waiting, so I tracked you down."

He looked at Alice, "You knew and—"

"All I did was tell him we were meeting for lunch."

He looked back at me and grinned. "Couldn't wait until I got home?"

I shook my head. "Sorry I didn't call back sooner." He tried to say something but I cut him off. "I didn't get your message until yesterday. I was sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah. Someone tired me out."

"Jasper!" Alice shrieked. "I don't need to know that about my brother!"

Edward's blush was gorgeous. I stroked the back of my fingers against his cheek. Without taking my eyes off Edward, I said, "Take your mind out of the gutter little girl. I was talking about all the work I was inspired to do."

"Work?" He asked.

"Yeah, after you left I started painting."

"But you hadn't slept yet!"

I shrugged. "I was motivated."

"Jesus, when did you stop?"

"Not sure," I said. "Maybe Saturday? It kinda got blurred together."

Just then the waitress came over and asked if I wanted anything. I threw Edward a lascivious grin, but didn't say anything untoward. Instead, I ordered a plate of pasta and a beer. After, the conversation turned a bit more mundane, as the three of us enjoyed our meal.

When we stepped outside, Alice made a quick goodbye, kissing each of us on the cheek. But before she walked away she whispered to me, "Hurt him and I'll kill you."

"So," Edward began. "You really kept painting after I left?"

I shook my head as if to say "no," but said, "Painting, drawing." I stepped closer to him, put my mouth near his ear, and whispered, "Fantasizing," before nipping the lobe of his ear with my teeth.

Edward whimpered and turned his head, and this time he didn't stop short of my mouth. Instead, he pressed his lips against mine and took my breath away. When he broke the kiss, he said, "I didn't think," he closed his eyes. "I thought maybe . . . I thought you didn't want to see me again."

I took his face in my hands. "Oh no, chère. I most definitely wanted to see you again."

"And did I. . ." he blushed again. "Were you really painting me?"

"Would you like to see?" I asked.

He nodded.

I grabbed his hand. "C'mon then."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have something else to do." I frowned, frustrated when I realized he probably did. Not everyone had my kind of free time.

"No."

I felt my face fall.

"Oh shit, Jasper. I meant, no, I don't have something else to do. I'd love to come see them."

"Good," I said with a smile. "Let's go."

My apartment wasn't too far from the restaurant, so it didn't take us long to walk there. It wasn't the same, lust-filled run as the previous time we were together, but Edward held my hand the whole way. It was sweet, innocent, and I liked it more than I thought I would. Now don't get me wrong. It's not that I was opposed to public displays of affection, but mine were usually of the kissing, touching, and groping variety. The hand holding was just . . . simple and guileless.

But when we started to make our way up the stairs, I saw him pause at the landing and flush. I knew exactly what he was remembering. "My offer still stands," I told him.

"What?"

"I'd still be more than happy to fuck you against that wall."

"Do you always do that?" he asked.

"What? Fuck people against the wall?"

He laughed. "No, say whatever you're thinking?"

I shrugged. "Never saw a reason not to."

We walked into the loft, and as I turned and began to remove my jacket, I heard a soft whimper. I looked back at Edward and he was watching my movements with wide, dark eyes. I felt my lips curve up in a smile as I tossed the jacket to the side.

"See something you like?" I asked, walking to him.

He licked his lips and nodded.

I stopped just in front of him, my lips hovering millimeters from his and whispered, "So do I," before kissing him. His mouth was pliable and soft and opened to me without hesitation. The kiss began tender and gentle; a welcome, a hello, a 'damn you look good.' It became more. It became passionate and forceful; a demand, an assertion, an 'Oh God, I want-you-so-fucking-much.'

My hands wouldn't stop moving, gripping his hips, his ass, sliding into thick, silky hair, and along hot skin. My mouth couldn't stop roaming, kissing, licking, nibbling, rasping against stubble and nipping tender flesh.

Christ, the sounds coming from Edward were like fuel on a fire. Whimpers, moans and groans, guttural and primal.

And we were still by the door.

I couldn't get enough of him. His skin under my fingers and tongue was too good. His mouth was sweet and wet. His supple frame molded itself to me in complete surrender, hard and soft in all the right places, fitting perfect and whole.

I was losing control.

I pushed him against the wall, pinning his wrists with one of my hands, sliding a leg between his and grinding against him. "What are you doing to me?" I growled.

My hips bucked of their own accord and I watched, fascinated as his head snapped back, smacking the wall with a dull thud and his lips parted, plump and wet and crimson. He moaned in a way that should be illegal.

"Jasper," he panted. "Oh god."

I ground myself against him again.

"Oh shit, please . . . no, god, oh god," he whimpered as his hips responded to mine, circling and seeking. His eyes opened and they were fevered and desperate. "You're gonna," he bit his lip as my body responded. "You're gonna make me come."

"Good," I snarled and bit down on the soft spot between his shoulder and neck, while continuing to undulate and grind against him.

"Jasper!" he shouted and I could feel the pulsing of his cock against my leg as he came, and I kept pressing and rubbing, helping him ride it out, until I felt his knees buckling and his weight came to rest on my thigh.

I watched his face, tight then slack. His skin was flushed and sweaty, and he was breathing fast. Then his eyes opened and fixed mine. His pupils were blown, his gaze feral. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips and I watched as the cherry flesh turned shiny, making them appear even plumper and I wanted to suck his bottom lip into my mouth, bite it until he cried out.

Letting go of his wrists, I eased back a little. His hands immediately went to my belt buckle. I was hard, achingly so, but I didn't want to lose control of the moment. I was going to exercise restraint. I was going to hold the reins to whatever it was between Edward and me, because the way he turned me on was making my head swim.

No, I wasn't going to give in. I was going to wait until after he saw the sketches, until after he was as worked up as before. Then I would take him.

"I believe you wanted to see some sketches."

Edward's brow furrowed. "But what about. . ." he nodded at my obvious bulge.

"Oh, it can wait."

When his eyebrows went up, I added, "For now."

Edward laughed. "Well, do you mind if I take a minute to clean up before we look?" he asked, indicating the wet spot on the front of his pants.

"Hmmm, I don't know, the dirty look suits you," I teased.

He snorted and walked to my bathroom. He was in there for about a minute when he stuck his head out. "Jasper, ummm, do you mind if I rinse off in your shower real quick? I'm a bit, uh, stickier than a tissue can handle." He grinned at me.

"Sure."

A moment later I heard the shower turn on, and then the unmistakable click of the shower door.

I think it took me all of three seconds to imagine Edward naked and wet in my shower.

I took me about three more to strip off my clothes and stalk to the shower.

Edward was rinsing his hair. His head was tilted back under the stream and his eyes were closed. The water trailed over his skin, glistening pale and lovely. It skipped and danced over the planes of his chest and pooled a moment in his belly button, before sliding down and getting lost in the curls at the base of his cock.

It took exactly two point two seconds to chuck restraint and control out the fucking window.

I opened the shower door and Edward's eyes opened, surprised. His lips parted as if he was going to speak, but he never had the chance as I crashed my mouth to his, hungry and bruising, finally nipping at that bottom lip until he cried out in pleasure-pain.

"What happened to waiting?" he groaned as I pressed myself against him.

"Can't," I panted. "You . . . fuck, chère, what you do to me."

I spun him around to face the wall, and bit and licked along his neck and down his spine, sipping the water from his skin until I reached the slope of his perfect ass. I pulled his hips out and roughly grabbed the soft flesh of his cheeks, opening him up to me, and ran my tongue over the tender skin and tight muscle.

"Oh fuck!" Edward cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily, his body trembling.

I continued to lick and tongue and nip at his hole and the sensitive strip of flesh beneath it, until Edward was crying out and begging me to fuck him.

I was more than happy to oblige, me being a gentleman and all.

Opening the shower door, I reached into the drawer of the vanity and pulled out a condom and lube. The shower had a small bench, and I sat down and rolled the condom on. Edward straddled my lap, and with the spray no longer directed right at him, I poured lube on my two fingers and prepared him for me.

"Ride me," I demanded.

He lowered himself on my cock, slow, so so slow; I was gritting my teeth with the effort of holding back from grabbing his hips and just slamming up into him. My heart was hammering in my chest and my arms were trembling, and then he was there, flush with me and I was so deep inside him, and he was so perfect around me. His forehead fell against mine, but his eyes were open, looking at me, seeking . . . something, and I don't know if he found it, but then he was moving, and Christ I felt so fucking good inside of him.

Like every time with him, he abandoned himself to me: to the pleasure, to the way we fit together, aligning just right. Lost in the moment, he forgot to blush, to be self-conscious, to second guess, and instead he existed in the hedonistic perfection of us.

And fuck if it didn't feel so damn good.

The heat of him, of the shower, the slick slide of wet skin, and the echoes of our cries were pushing me to the edge, fast. I grasped his beautiful cock, so hard and thick, and began to stroke and whisper, "That's it baby, that's it. I wanna see you come for me. Come for me, chère. Show me how good I make you feel."

"Oh shit," he moaned. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he cried out as he came, splattering across my stomach and chest.

"Oh that's it, chère. So fucking beautiful. So, so good," I murmured as grasped his hips tight and thrust once, twice more and let my head fall back as I pulsed and emptied inside of him.

Edward slumped forward, his face pressed into my neck, as we both worked to catch our breath. I couldn't stop my hands from skimming up and down his back and over his ass. It felt so good to touch him.

The water started to cool and we shifted. I carefully slid out of him and we finished rinsing off, before stepping out of the shower. I dried quickly and pulled Edward to me, our still damp bodies sticking a little as I kissed him. "Thank you, chère."

"I feel like I should be thanking you," he said with a shy smile. And there it was again, the complete dichotomy that was Edward.

I rolled my eyes. "C'mon," I pulled him out of the bathroom.

"Hang on! My clothes," he said as he reached for them.

"Fuck the clothes, Edward. I like you just like this."

It was his turn to roll his eyes, but he left his clothes and followed me out of the bathroom. I walked him over to where everything was spread out, and I could feel a touch of nerves in the pit of my stomach. It reminded me of the night of the show, and again I wondered why? Why did Edward's opinion matter so much to me?

Even Maria, who I adored and respected and who knew me better than almost anyone, didn't hold such sway over my work. Sure, she inspired it. She encouraged it. She introduced me to my agent, and bought some of my first pieces. Still her opinion over any specific items, while appreciated, never made me nervous.

But Edward's did.

I stood to the side and let him look at the paintings and sketches on his own. I watched as he stood before each canvas, and then as he took his time with the drawings. I observed the flush on his chest and his neck as he looked at them, and saw his breathing quicken a bit as well. The muscles of his back and ass flexed and pulled as he leaned over to look closely at one piece, before he turned his head to me.

He was biting his bottom lip. "I still can't believe this is how you see me," he said.

"Why? I mean, I can't believe you don't know how attractive you are," I told him.

He shook his head. "Not like this. I'm not . . . this isn't . . . God, Jasper, this is more than just whether I'm decent looking or not. This is so," he paused looking for the right words. "Sensual and erotic. It's wild."

"I know."

"But, but that's not me. I'm tense, awkward," he laughed. "Alice says I'm 'uptight' and 'unfun.'"

"Oh no, chère, you're anything but." I walked over to where he stood and pointed down at a sketch of him on my bed, his back arched as he lay beneath me, his eyes closed, his lips parted, a visual depiction of the word "wanton."

"This _is_ you. This is exactly how you look under me. How you looked just now riding me." I wrapped myself around him, his back against my chest, my chin on his shoulder as we continued to look at the pages. I whispered in his ear, "It's how you look when your cock is in my mouth and my fingers are in your ass, and it doesn't have a patch on how fucking hot you look when you come."

He turned in my arms and I could see his cheeks were burning, even the tips of his ears were red. I stroked my fingers over his heated skin.

"If I look like that it's because of what you do to me," he said.

I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a finger against my lips. "I like them, Jasper. They're different though."

I nodded and then sucked his finger into my mouth. A soft moan of pleasure vibrated through his chest, and I felt his dick twitch against my leg. I slid down his body and took him into my mouth, enjoying the feel of him hardening against my tongue.

He tugged me to my feet and pulled me to the rug in the living space, and we lay down together. He turned so he could take me into his mouth as well. We dragged it out for a while, each of us bringing the other to the edge and then backing off, until finally I pressed a finger into him and he came with a scream. It didn't take me but moments to follow suit.

When I woke up, Edward was gone. It was dark outside, and a glance at the clock told me it was already past eight. I stretched and rolled over, and saw a folded piece of paper on the coffee table.

_Jasper,_

_Sorry to leave you without saying goodbye, but you looked so peaceful and I know you haven't slept much lately, so I couldn't bring myself to wake you up. I had to get home and ready to meet Tanya._

Edward had explained to me about the music he'd written for his friend, and that he would be presenting it to her that night.

_I'm getting together with a couple of friends tomorrow evening, but I'm leaving you my cell phone number so you don't have to go all "Mission Impossible" to track me down again. _

_Thanks, again._

_Edward_

His number was beneath his signature, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his subtle teasing of my stealth attack on him earlier in the day.

I made some coffee and ate a bagel, then got back to it. I was meeting my agent, Demetri, in the morning and I wanted to show him some of my new work. I could feel it pulling me in a slightly new direction, and it felt good.

My meeting with Demetri the next day went well, and he was excited about the new pieces. He was trying to get me a show at a nearby gallery, and took them to show the owner. I was pumped and happy, and I wanted to go out.

I knew Edward was busy, and besides, I didn't want to send the wrong impression. I enjoyed him. A lot. Probably more than anyone I'd been with in a long time, but I didn't want to make him think there was something more between us than there was. I wouldn't do that to someone. I wouldn't lie or trick anyone like that. I also couldn't lie to myself. Maria's comments about Edward getting under my skin bothered me, and I wanted some distance from him. I remembered that Seth called, so I called him back and we made plans to meet at a club that evening.

The two of us made quite a pair on the dance floor—me with my golden boy coloring, and him with his Native American skin and black hair. He was wearing soft leather pants, and nothing else. We danced with my leg between his for a while, and he ground against it, hard and wanting, practically begging me to throw him down on the dance floor and fuck him.

Seth spun around so his back was against my chest, and continued to dance, grinding his ass and circling his hips against my crotch, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I had him on his knees. I rubbed my hands over his chest, pinching his nipples as I rubbed my hard cock against him, enjoying the slide of it against the soft leather of his pants. He turned his face to me, and reached back with his hand, twining it into my hair and tugging me down for a kiss. I fucked his mouth with my tongue and then traced a line along his sweaty skin from his jaw to his neck and up to his ear, where I whispered all the filthy things I was going to do to him.

His answering moan vibrated through him, and he moved his hands behind him to rub me through my jeans, blatantly jacking me off on the dance floor. I let him play for a moment and then said, "Let's go, chère."

He turned to give me a dazzling smile, and grabbed my hand to leave the dance floor. When I looked up, I was stunned.

There, at the edge of the floor, looking indecently sexy in a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt, was Edward. He was flanked on either side by two men, both of whom were gorgeous, and huge. One of them was whispering urgently in his ear, and tugging on his hand.

But Edward wasn't paying any attention to him, or to the beautiful man next to him, who wrapped a possessive arm around Edward's waist when he saw me looking.

No, Edward wasn't paying attention to either of them, because he was staring straight ahead.

Directly at me.

* * *

_a/n: Now don't go hating on Jasper. He is who he is, and has never lied about it. Just something to think about._

_I want to thank everyone who voted for my Age of Edward contest story, **From the Ashes**, __and to thank the judges for picking it for 1st place. I'm awed and humbled by the talent that was in the contest. Thank you so much._

_Also, still pimping my girl **Chicklette's Of Kith and Kin**, because that shit is just that good. _

_Also need to pimp a wonderful, and complete, story by **vampireisthenewblack**, called **Say Something Else**. I remember seeing the chatter when it was still publishing, but only got around to reading it recently and it is fantastic. Do yourself a huge favor and go read it. Bring a few tissues along, you'll need them. But don't shy away from the angst. It's well worth it.  
_

_Links are in my profile._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hello lovely people. Hope you're ready for more of the boys. Edward had a lot to say this chapter. _

_As always, **Chicklette** is the master beta, and once again, called a pussy a pussy when needed. 3 _

_SM owns them. I just like to make them do things.  
_

* * *

My lunch with Alice didn't happen Saturday. I wound up so exhausted after my night with Jasper, that I couldn't think straight, never mind write anything, and after a couple of frustrating hours I gave up and went to bed. The next morning I begged Alice for a rain check, promising to take her to lunch on Monday. I also asked her for Jasper's number.

She gave it to me and then, "Edward . . ." She trailed off.

"What, Alice?"

"Just . . . just be careful okay?"

That was the second time Alice warned me to be careful about Jasper, but I couldn't help but think she was just being the overprotective sister. It's not that I didn't believe her when she said Jasper was something of a player, that much was obvious from his artwork, and while my experience with men wasn't extensive, I still felt like he and I had connected on a level that went beyond just sex.

"I will, Al. I promise."

I paced my kitchen for a while before finally working up the courage to call Jasper. When I got his voice mail, I left an awkward message. I didn't know how to do this. It's not like I'd ever even gotten the number for someone from one of the clubs. There was only one person I'd ever been with more than once, and that was an entirely different scenario.

I also realized that I had another phone call to make.

"Hello."

"I told her."

"Edward?"

"Yeah, sorry, Riley. I told Alice."

"Oh wow. How'd it go?"

"Not bad actually." I found myself smiling as I thought about how the night went. "But I think I need to tell Jake."

"Yeah, you do."

Riley had been pushing me to come out to Alice and my other friends for some time. Riley was the only person, other than Bella, that knew I was gay, and that's because he and I spent our sophomore year in college mutually exploring our homosexuality. Bella was the only person I'd ever actually "come out" to. Riley and I became friends our freshman year, and the following year after a party where we both got pretty hammered, he kissed me.

Riley and I were each other's firsts. First kiss, first blow job, first everything. We explored, we experimented, we took turns topping and bottoming, until we each figured out what we preferred. In many ways we were perfect for each other, but Riley wanted to come out and I didn't. Also, while I loved Riley, I wasn't _in love_ with Riley.

I remember the day it all came to a head so clearly.

_We were walking back to my apartment after hanging out with some friends and Riley reached out to take my hand. I jerked away and hissed at him, "What are you doing? People can see."_

_He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked away, but not before I saw the look of pain on his face. We got to the apartment and as soon as the door closed, I rounded on him._

"_Why did you do that?" I asked._

"_I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just wasn't thinking."_

_He looked so sad and hurt that my anger just fizzled. I kissed him. "No. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that."_

"_Shhh," he said and silenced me with his mouth on mine. After that, there was no more talking, just the sounds of wet mouths and soft skin. He slid to his knees in front of me, hands grasping the buckle of my belt. _

"_Riley, we should—"_

_He looked up at me, his lips kiss swollen and lush, "Let me," he pleaded. His eyes closed and he nuzzled his face against the zipper covered bulge of my hard on, his breath hot through the fabric. "I want to taste you."_

_I didn't have the strength to stop him._

_His nimble fingers deftly unbuckled my belt and in moments, my pants were down and my cock was enveloped in the warm, wet heat of his mouth._

_Riley's mouth was very, very talented._

_He slid up and down, running his tongue along the head, teasing the underside, and then licking all the way down, over my sac, sucking each ball into his mouth before teasing his way back up and sucking me almost all the way to the base. My hands fisted in his hair, and I tried to keep my hips still._

_Then he swallowed around me and I slid all the way in._

"_Oh shit, Riley. Oh shit. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna . . . g . . ." I stuttered, trying to warn him. He just grabbed my hips and swallowed again. I came so hard, my knees buckled, but Riley didn't flinch. He sucked until I was spent, and when he stood he kissed me again._

_We made our way to the bed and soon he was in me, moving deep and slow. I looked up at him and he was staring down at me, and his eyes were full of so much emotion._

"_Riley," I whispered._

"_Shhh," he breathed and then shifted his angle, forcing my back to arch with pleasure. "Shhh," he said again and kissed me. I came then, and he followed immediately. A few moments later he pulled out and rolled over. We lay on our backs, side by side._

"_I love you," he said._

_I closed my eyes. "I know."_

"_I can't keep doing this."_

"_Riley, I don't want to hurt you. I never . . . I . . . care about you, but . . ."_

"_But you're not in love with me."_

_I shook my head and then looked at him. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this go on. I shouldn't have—"_

_He placed a finger over my lips. "No. Don't be. I'm not sorry. About any of it. Sure, I wish you felt the same way, but I don't regret a minute."_

"_I don't either," I told him honestly._

_He put his head on my chest, I wrapped my arms around him, and we just lay there quietly for a while. _

_Eventually I asked, "Now what?"_

"_I don't want to leave," he said. "It'll really be over when I do, and right now I can pretend a little. Right now I can pretend that I'll always have you in my life."_

"_Hey," I said as I forced him to look at me. "You will always have me in your life. I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be your friend for as long as you want me to be."_

Things were a little awkward for a time, but Riley and I managed to stay friends. In fact, he remained one of my best friends, and I can't deny that when he did come out a couple of months later, I was a little jealous. And although he never said anything, I could feel the disappointment from him every time I went out on a date with a girl that Alice pushed at me.

Jake was a friend of mine from when we were kids, almost like a brother. Our dads had grown up together in Washington, and every summer we'd go back there for a few weeks and spend some time on the reservation with Jake and his family. He transferred to Northwestern during our junior year, and when my parents died our senior year, he moved in and helped me keep it all together.

He'd never had a problem with Riley's homosexuality, but I had no idea how he'd feel about me coming out.

"Will you come with me?" I asked.

"Of course I will. You know I'll always be there for you, Edward."

"Thanks, Rye."

"When do you want to do this?"

"Are you free Tuesday?" I asked. "I've got to finish this piece for Tanya. I'm supposed to play it for her on Monday."

"Sure. Where do you want to do it? Your place?"

"No," I said. "I'm thinking neutral territory, just in case he freaks out."

"He's not going to freak out, Edward."

We argued a bit more, but eventually decided on a place. When we hung up I felt a little bit lighter. I was still nervous about telling Jake, but calmer knowing Riley would be there to support me. I called Jake and left him a message telling him to meet us on Tuesday, and I knew he'd call if it wouldn't work for him.

I spent the rest of the day and the next working on the piece for Tanya. I can't lie; not hearing from Jasper upset me. I didn't know what to think. Maybe he hadn't feel the connection that I'd felt? Or maybe he was just busy. The optimistic side of me hoped that he was busy. The defeatist side of me took Alice's warnings to heart and assumed that I was just another one off for him.

So, when he crashed our lunch on Monday, I was pleasantly surprised. The moment he whispered in my ear, I felt my body respond to him, and when I turned to look at him, the rest of the world disappeared. Until I heard Alice, and I felt myself blush. When Jasper told me he'd been busy painting . . . painting because of me, I was thrilled. Obviously our night together had meant something to him.

Walking back to Jasper's loft, I felt happy. We held hands, and I couldn't help but think of that evening with Riley and of the difference between the two days. Being out, being able to touch Jasper that way while walking down the street was a huge step for me, although I doubt Jasper understood it. Still, I was grateful that he didn't pull away.

As we walked up the stairs to his place, I couldn't help but replay our night together—the way we attacked each other on the landing, our touches and kisses, the idea that he would fuck me there in the open if I allowed it, all of it was playing through my head, and Jasper knew it. I couldn't help but laugh when he repeated his offer to fuck me against the wall. He was so brash, so open, so comfortable in his own skin.

I've always been cautious, always worried about what people would say or think. But Jasper? Jasper revels in who and what he is. He lives his life out loud and without regret, uninhibited and brazen. It was intoxicating just to be around him.

After we were inside his loft, he made me lose control again. His power over me was a little terrifying, yet I couldn't stay away from him. Just a look, a touch, and I was on the edge. Hell, we weren't in his apartment for fifteen minutes and he made me come in my pants. Not that I was complaining, particularly when the resulting shower was so incredible.

But it was his artwork that astounded me. I'd seen some of his early sketches the morning after we'd been together, but the new work floored me. It was so intense, so intimate, so meaningful; I was overwhelmed with emotion looking at it.

I knew that I was good looking. I'd never had trouble finding someone to get off with the once in a while that I went to the clubs, but the way Jasper drew and painted me? Besides the fact that it was a bit embarrassing to see myself in the throes of passion, the pieces showed someone beautiful and electric, someone without pretense and utterly wild. I had no idea how he saw me that way.

I was always the one who was reserved, closeted, shy. Alice always made fun of me and told me I was uptight. It's not that I _wanted_ to be that way, but I always felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I always felt the need to make those around me happy, to make my parents proud of me, to take care of Alice after they died. I can admit to needing the approval of those around me.

Jasper was the antithesis of all of that. His _joie de vivre_, his passion, his unselfconscious sexuality and openness was not only refreshing, but completely captivating and magnetic. He made me want in a way I'd never known possible.

And his words. The things he said to me.

"_This is you. This is exactly how you look under me. How you looked just now riding me. It's how you look when your cock is in my mouth and my fingers are in your ass, and it doesn't have a patch on how fucking hot you look when you come."_

Just thinking about it made me hard. Which was really bad timing because I had to go meet Riley and Jake. I adjusted myself in my jeans, and headed out.

As I drove there, I thought about the day before, and how I'd had to leave him to go see Tanya. He looked so peaceful curled up on the rug. We'd fallen asleep after yet another round, and barely managed to pull the blanket on his couch over ourselves. When I woke up, the sun had already set, but there was still a slight glow in the sky.

I felt wrong just leaving without a word, so I left him a note, with my cell number, and I fervently hoped he would call.

Tanya knew something was up when we got together, but I wouldn't tell her anything. I felt like I had to tell Jake first. He'd never forgive me if Tanya knew before he did, assuming he didn't freak out at the fact that I was gay in the first place.

I played the piece for Tanya, and she loved it.

"_I think it's one of the best things you've written in a long time, Edward."_

"_Thanks." I smiled at her and blushed._

"_Oh, Edward. You're gonna break someone's heart one of these days with that blush."_

"_Shut up," I muttered._

"_Seriously though, sweetie, this piece is good. Really good. Something inspire you?"_

_At my deeper blush she pounced. "Oh my god! There is something, someone, right?"_

_I shook my head. _

"_Oh bullshit, Edward. You have that look. That glow. Holy shit, it's the well-fucked look!"_

"_Alright, alright!" I held up my hands in mock surrender. "There's someone, or well, there may be someone, but I don't want to jinx it, okay? So please, just drop it."_

_There must have been something in my pleading tone, because she did. "Fine sweetie. I'll drop it. For now."_

_I rolled my eyes, but smiled. "Thanks."_

I pulled up to the restaurant, and my heart started pounding. I sat in my car for a full five minutes, before a rap on the window startled me.

"You gonna go inside or did you plan on using telepathy to tell him?" Riley asked.

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"And I keep telling you, you don't need to be."

I took a deep breath. "Fine, but if you're wrong, you're buying."

He laughed. "Deal."

"And I'll be drinking a lot."

He shook his head and laughed some more.

I got out of the car and Riley gave me a hug. He looked good. His hair had grown out some and he'd obviously been working out. When we were in school he'd been tall and lanky, and while he wasn't body-builder big, he'd definitely filled out in all the right ways. Not for the first time, I wished things had worked out between us.

"You look good, Rye."

He grinned. "So do you."

"Let's do this, huh?"

He nodded. "Let's."

We walked in and quickly spotted Jake at the bar talking to a pretty brunette. Riley and I exchanged looks and laughed. Jake could always be counted on to be making the moves on some girl or another. He spotted us and waved us over.

He made introductions, then small talk for a minute, and then we made our way to our table, the girl's phone number safely tucked away in his pocket.

Jake was a good looking guy. He was tall, really tall, topping out somewhere around six-five, and with a build to match. His skin was a lovely russet, and he kept his black hair long. His eyes were dark and full of mischief, and his lips were lush. If he hadn't been like a brother to me, I might have had a crush on him, but that thought made me fairly nauseous.

We sat and ordered a round of drinks, then discussed work and family for a bit before the waitress took our order.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Jake asked me.

I took a deep breath and looked at Riley, who just smiled and nodded at me.

"I'm gay," I blurted out.

"And?" Jake asked.

"What do you mean "and?"

"It's not like this is earth shattering news, Edward. Is that all you had to tell me?"

"That's it? That's your response? You're not even the least bit surprised?"

The waitress arrived with our food at that moment, but as soon as she left, Jake grabbed a French fry and started eating. In between bites, he spoke.

"Edward, I love you like a brother. We're close like brothers. I know you kept going out with all of those girls Alice set you up with, but I also knew your heart was never in it. Hell, it was obvious you were dreading it each time. And let's face it, there was no shortage of women who wanted in your pants, but you never went for it. So, no, it isn't a huge surprise."

I sat there, somewhat stunned. "And you're okay with it?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be?" he asked around a mouthful of hamburger.

"I don't know. I just . . ."

Jake put down the burger. "Dude, did you really think I'd have a problem with you being gay? I hang out with you and Riley all the time. What makes you think I'd have a problem with it?"

"I don't know," I whined. "It's just, well, Riley . . . when you met Riley he was already out. It's the only way you've known him. I thought maybe because it was me, and we'd grown up together that you'd have a problem with it. I don't know, Jake. It was stupid, but yeah. There it is."

"You're such an asshat, Edward."

"Thanks, Jake. Really."

He took another bite. "But, I will freak out if you tell me you two are together and that you've been secret lovers all these years."

I choked on my drink, but Riley looked at Jake. "Would it be that awful?" he asked, and something in his voice broke my heart a little. I looked at him and realized at that moment that he was still carrying a torch for me.

Jake ignored the undercurrent and continued with his banter. "Why? You wanna fuck Eddie boy over here?" he grinned at me. "Shit, wait, are you a top or bottom, Eddie?" he laughed.

His jokes broke the tension. "Seriously, though. What brought this on? I mean, why now?"

This was the question I was waiting for, and the one I dreaded because it meant telling them about Jasper, and I knew they would have questions that I didn't have all the answers to. Also, I was suddenly worried about hurting Riley's feelings. I'd lied about myself for long enough. I decided honesty was the best policy, so I told them about Jasper.

It wasn't easy telling them about him without delving into the sexual nature of our relationship, but I managed to convey the gist of it. It was obvious that I'd been intimate with Jasper, but I didn't give them any details.

"He sounds like a male version of Jake," Riley said. "A total player."

"Hey! I'm not a player! I'm just looking for the right girl," he huffed.

"Yeah, while fucking your way through half the female population of Chicago," Riley retorted.

"Guys! I think we're talking about me right now," I huffed.

"Sorry," they both mumbled at the same time.

"You like this guy?" Jake asked.

I played with my drink for a few seconds before answering. "Yeah," I said. "I do."

"From what you've said, it sounds like he's pretty into you too," Jake continued. "Crashing your lunch with Alice, painting you?"

"That's just it, Jake. I don't know. I mean Alice says he's a player. But then all those drawings and paintings . . . but then again, that's his style, you know? Painting the people he's ummm, intimate with," I said, and I could feel my blush start at my toes.

"Oh man, look at him Riley. Just how many paintings of you did he make?" Jake asked with a crooked grin.

"Shut up," I muttered.

We talked a bit more about Jasper, and I told them Alice's reaction to my coming out. I was so relieved that Jake took the news so well. I couldn't imagine not having him in my life. When he left to use the restroom, I turned to Riley.

"You okay?" I asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah. It's just . . ." he trailed off and looked at me, and there was something so sad in his expression. "It's just that a small part of me hoped, and I know it's stupid, but I guess some part of me hoped that when you finally came out maybe we'd have a chance, you know?"

When I opened my mouth to say something, he cut me off. "Don't. It's okay. Like I said, it was a small hope, a fantasy really. I'll be fine," he assured me. "I just want you to be happy, and if this Jasper guy can do it for you, then I'm all for it."

I reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thank you, Riley. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're here for me."

He squeezed my hand in return. "Always, Edward. Always."

Jake came back and the mood at the table lightened, even Riley returned to his usual bubbly self.

"Hey, I know," Jake said. "Let's go dancing!" He turned to Riley. "Let's take Edward to a gay club and properly celebrate him coming out."

"It's not like I've never been to a gay club, Jake," I muttered.

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "I'm filing that away for later. Seriously, c'mon let's go. It'll be fun," he pleaded.

I can't believe I even worried about telling Jake. In fact . . . "Is there something about yourself you want to tell us?" I teased.

He fluttered his lashes and looked at Riley. "Well, now that you mentioned it, Riley here has been looking really good lately," he teased as he ran his fingers up Riley's arm.

"Ass," Riley complained as he plucked Jake's hand away.

Jake just laughed. "Seriously, Edward. I'm just happy for you and I want to celebrate. This is a good thing."

I realized Jake was right. Coming out was a good thing, and I was happy, so I agreed to go dancing. We paid our bill and headed out.

When we got to the club, Jake's confidence and flirtatiousness didn't wane, not even a little. He was completely unphased by the looks and come-ons he was getting. I wished I had just a sliver of his self-assurance. We spent a little time at the bar drinking, because I needed some liquid courage before dancing. From where we sat, we could see that there was a small circle on the dance floor, around what was most likely a hot pair of dancers.

We finally made our way out there, but what I saw brought me up short. Jasper was dancing with a pretty twink, although dancing was a loose term for the dry humping they were doing. I watched as the pretty boy ground his ass against Jasper's crotch, and as Jasper encouraged him by grabbing his hips.

Riley and Jake took two more steps before they realized I wasn't following.

"What's wrong?" Riley asked.

"That's Jasper," I whispered.

"What?" Jake shouted above the music.

"Jasper," I repeated louder. "That's Jasper," I said and tried to sound unaffected by what I was seeing, but Jake and Riley knew better.

"That motherfucker," Jake muttered. "C'mon, let's get out of here," he said and pulled on my hand.

Riley wrapped his arm around my waist protectively. "Jake's right, Edward. Let's go."

But I couldn't move. I couldn't stop watching as Jasper pinched the boy's nipples and ran his hands over his chest. I couldn't stop watching as the boy pulled Jasper close for a kiss, or how Jasper responded with enthusiasm.

But when I saw the boy stroking Jasper through his jeans, the look on Jasper's face was like a punch to the gut. I knew he was experienced. I'd been warned that he was a player. But the look on his face? I'd hoped, stupidly hoped, that I was the only one to put it there. I really was naïve.

He whispered something in the boy's ear, and the boy smiled at him. He really was very pretty. In fact, he reminded me of a younger, prettier version of Jake. Then he grabbed Jasper's hand and pulled him toward the exit.

And that's when Jasper saw me.

For a moment, nothing happened. We just stood staring at each other, and at least for me, everything and everyone else faded away, until the only thing I could see was him. I was angry at him and at myself. At myself because even then and there, I still wanted him. And I thought _why?_ Why couldn't he want me the same way? I was angry at him for making me think that I was something special, when I really was no different than any other trick at a club.

I could handle that. That was something I was used to. When you hooked up with someone at a club, you didn't expect anything more than what it was. But if Jasper was just looking to score, why did he act like I was something more. Why the seduction?

Then he was right in front of me and I heard him say, "Edward."

I felt Riley's fingers dig into my side as he tightened his grip on me.

"Jasper."

The boy with him piped up. "I'm Seth!" He turned and looked at Jasper. "They're hot. I'm up for a party."

I saw Jasper close his eyes for a moment, then he turned to Seth, "Can you give me a minute?"

He pouted at Jasper and ran his fingers over his chest. "Okay, but don't make me wait too long."

"Just wait outside for me. Please?"

Seth nodded and walked off.

Jake and Riley didn't budge.

"Edward, can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure, talk," I said.

"Alone?"

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of them."

"Fine. Seth is an old friend," he began.

I snorted. "Jasper, please. Stop, just stop. You don't owe me any explanations," I said, although a part of me—the part that believed him when he told me I was beautiful, that believed him when he said I was special—really wanted to hear one. "We had a good time. You didn't make me any promises." I shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant.

"Edward, it wasn't like that."

"Oh no? Really? Tell me then, what was it like?" I spat, my façade of nonchalance fading. "You know what? Never mind." I looked up at Riley, then back at Jasper. "By the way, Riley, Jake, this is Jasper. Jasper, Riley and Jake. They're old friends of mine too," and I intentionally inserted as much innuendo into the comment as I could.

Jasper's lips pressed together in a thin line and he looked, upset. I pushed further. "Your _friend_ is waiting. Don't make him wait too long. He may take someone else home."

"Edward," he tried again.

"Bye, Jasper."

I grabbed Riley by the hand and pulled him toward the dance floor, and started to dance with him. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Jasper was still standing there, watching us, with Jake next to him.

I don't know why I did it . . . okay, I do know why, I wanted Jasper to feel what I was feeling, but I reached up, grabbed the back of Riley's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. I felt him hesitate for a moment before he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in closer, kissing me deeply. The kiss went on and on, and I could feel Riley get hard as he pressed against me.

When we broke off the kiss, Riley leaned his forehead against mine. "Edward?"

I looked up at him. "Make me forget him, Riley. Make me forget."

Riley's eyes widened, then darkened and a moment later his mouth was on mine again. "God, Edward," he breathed as he worked his way over to my neck. "I will. I'll make you forget," he promised. "Let's go."

We turned to leave, and I saw that Jasper was gone, but Jake stood there scowling. "Riley, go get the car," he said. "I need a minute with Edward."

Riley looked at me, his face full of promise before he walked away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jake asked.

"I don't think it's any of your business, Jake. But if you must know, I'm sure someone here can teach you the mechanics."

"Fuck you, Edward. Don't take this out on me! I meant what do you think you're doing to Riley? That boy has been in love with you for years. Don't you dare fuck with his head."

I really needed to start giving Jake more credit. He'd seen what I refused to acknowledge until that night: that Riley was still in love with me.

"Jake, you're my best friend, but what goes on between me and Riley is none of your business."

"What goes on? This isn't the first time? Jesus, Edward. And don't tell me it's none of my business," he continued. "Riley is my friend too. I don't want to see him hurt. I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's fine, Jake. I'll be fine," I lied.

"I wanna beat the shit out of him, Edward. I want to make him hurt for hurting you."

"Stop it, Jake. I'm a big boy. He didn't make me any promises. You can't even say we're dating, since all we've managed to do is spend most of our time fucking. I have no right to be upset. So, don't, Jake. Just drop it."

I walked away, heading toward the exit. Jake caught up to me. "What about Riley?" he asked.

"What about him?"

"Are you going to do to him what Jasper just did to you? You gonna lead him on?"

I stopped walking and hung my head. Because Jake was right. I couldn't do that to Riley. "Will you make sure he gets home? I'll take a cab back to the restaurant and get my car, okay?"

"We can get your car tomorrow, Edward."

"No Jake, really. I think I need to be alone for a bit. And frankly, I'm not sure I'd be able to say no to Riley right now if he pushed me, okay?"

He pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm here for you, okay? And if you want me to go break his face, I will."

I laughed. "I know you would. Go. Take Riley home."

I waited a few minutes for them to leave, then headed outside to find a cab. I spent my time going home thinking about Jasper and Riley. I was ashamed that in my hurt, I was prepared to use Riley. I was angry at myself for letting Jasper get to me that way. I meant what I said to Jake. Jasper had made me no promises. I knew what he was when I got together with him. He told me he paints his lovers, and there were several paintings at that exhibit. Alice told me he was a player, and yet I went back to his place a second time.

He probably made all of his subjects feel as special as me. I was the one who was a fool for believing it was something more. But the real kicker was that I still wanted him. My body craved what he did to me. I hadn't been lying when I told him no one had ever made me feel like that.

What I had to do was decide if I could have Jasper on his terms; no commitment, no promises. I didn't know if I could do it, hell, I didn't know if he even wanted me anymore, but I realized as I pulled into my garage that I needed to try, because I wasn't ready to let him go.

* * *

_a/n: So, a little bit of angst, I know . . . what do you think about how Edward handled it?_

_Thanks to everyone who reads this story, puts it on alert, or leaves me a review. I really appreciate it._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: First of all, I'm totally blown away by the response to the last chapter. The Jake love was kinda epic. Thank you. _

_**Chicklette** beta'd this hot mess, and despite what she says, it really was. Any mistakes still here are all mine, 'cause I'm a tool like that.  
_

* * *

I watched Edward start to dance with the boy he introduced as Riley. Watched as he pulled Riley into a kiss. And watched as Riley melted against him, all the while knowing exactly what Edward's kisses could do.

"Fuck," I muttered. When did it become so complicated? How? And why was I feeling a possessive urge to rip Edward from Riley's arms? Maria's words came back to me, _"not my style, mijo."_ Well, it wasn't my style either, damn it. Still, I found another string of curses make their way past my lips.

"God damn it," I heard the bigger guy, Jake, say on an exhale. "Get the fuck out of here," he continued.

I turned to look at him, but he was staring at Edward and Riley. He was really a fine specimen of a man, and if I wasn't so pissed, I might have taken the time to admire him further. "Excuse me?"

He looked at me. "I said get the fuck out of here. You've done enough damage for one night."

"Fuck you," I replied. "But yeah, I'm gone. I came out to celebrate tonight, not to be part of some high school drama."

I turned to leave.

"You don't deserve him anyway," Jake said.

Our shoulders were almost touching, although my back was to the dance floor, and I could feel the anger rolling off him. I whisper-shouted into his ear, "You don't know the first thing about me. Why don't you go deal with Mr. I'm-Not-As-Innocent-As-I-Seem? Who knows, maybe y'all can still have that party Seth wanted."

Jake's jaw clenched. "Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will," I shot back, and left to find Seth.

He was waiting outside for me. I grabbed and kissed him, yanking his head back by his long, thick hair. Trailing down his neck I bit, just enough to sting, but not mark. "Now, where were we?"

Seth moaned and ground his hips against me. "We were at the part where you were going to take me home and fuck me into the mattress," he whispered in my ear. "Now, what do you say we use up that jealous energy you're sporting?"

_Jealous?_ "I'm not—"

Seth's fingers pressed against my lips, silencing me. "Honestly, I don't care. I just know that I want you. Now. Hard. Got a problem with that, Jasper?"

I sucked his fingers into my mouth, twirling my tongue around them, then reached down and grabbed his ass, pressing him against the very hard bulge in my pants. "Not. At. All."

Seth and I teased each other the entire way back to the loft. I kept up a steady descriptive stream of all the depraved things I was going to do to him, and he kept telling me how much and how hard he wanted me. By the time we were in the door, there was no preamble, no foreplay—that's what the entire trip home was. No, as soon as we were inside, his jacket hit the ground and I bent him over the back of my couch, slicked him up, and thrust into him.

"Fuck yes," he hissed. I felt him bearing down against the intrusion, forcing himself to relax around me. But that was all the respite I gave him before I pulled back and then slammed in again.

One of my hands was on the back of his neck, pressing his cheek down into the fabric while the other dug into his hip, steadying our rhythm.

"Like that, chère? Is that how you want it?"

"Yes, yes, yes," he chanted. "So good . . . feels s'good."

I felt him curve his back a little, trying to adjust the angle, so I twined my fingers into his hair and yanked, forcing his back to arch, allowing me to slide just a little deeper. He cried out when I did, a moan, a sob, a gasp of pleasure, that I felt shudder through him.

"Oh yeah," I whispered. "That's the spot, isn't it?"

Seth whimpered.

I tightened my grip on his hair, on his hips. It would probably leave a mark. "I asked you a question, chère. It's only polite to answer," I growled as I sped up, jacking my hips against his ass, hitting that spot over and over.

"Oh god, yes!" he shouted. "Fuck yes, that's the spot. Right there. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me, yeah."

I slammed in a little harder, a little faster, just like he wanted. My hand left his hip and wrapped around his cock. I pumped once, twice, three times and he was crying out, coming in my hand, hot and thick. I fucked him through his orgasm and then brought my hand to his mouth, letting him taste himself. He sucked my fingers clean and as he ran his tongue over my palm, I felt my balls tighten and then explode, as I came for what felt like forever.

I collapsed against Seth's back, our sweaty skin sticking to my shirt, my cheek pressed in between his shoulder blades. Our bodies moved up and down in tandem as we caught our breath. I felt his legs begin to tremble and slid out of him. Pressing a kiss to his back I whispered, "Stay here a moment."

He nodded silently, and his head sank down into the cushions on the back of the couch. I quickly disposed of the condom and cleaned myself up, before returning to him with a wet washcloth and cleaned him up as well.

"Christ, Jasper. Remind me to get you upset more often," he said as he turned around.

"I'm not—"

"Upset, yeah, yeah," Seth said. He looked at me and shook his head. "Whatever you say, gorgeous. What do you have to drink?"

I couldn't help but smile at his quick change of topic. Seth was fun, uncomplicated, easy to be with. He was exactly what I needed. He was exactly the opposite of Edward.

"Vodka?"

"Do you have any Red Bull?"

I grinned. "Of course."

Seth and I partied for a few more hours, drinking and fucking. He fell asleep despite the Red Bull, and I decided to paint, but it wasn't coming, wasn't flowing. Not like the other day. I was about to throw in the towel, when I heard Seth padding up behind me.

"Oooh, is that me?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

I grinned. Seth _loved_ being the subject of my paintings. "It's supposed to be, but it feels off. I dunno," I said.

"Hmmm. Let me see if I can help," he replied, and slithered around to my front, dropping to his knees and taking my semi-hard cock into his mouth.

I placed my hands on his head, but he let go and said, "Don't stop. Keep painting."

And I did.

A few days later I was on campus. Although our classes were over, since we'd done our final exhibitions, there was still some paperwork I needed to finalize before graduation.

I stood in line at the coffee cart, desperately in need of some caffeine, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and had a second to register Alice's angry eyes before her fist connected with the bridge of my nose.

"Fuck!"

"Ow!"

My eyes watered and my nose bled, and I knew I was gonna have a hell of a shiner come evening. Alice was jumping up and down shaking her hand, and complaining that no one ever told her punching someone would hurt so fucking much.

I had a bunch of napkins pressed up to my nose to stop the bleeding, and sat down on a nearby bench.

"You're an asshole," she spat at me.

The kid at the coffee cart looked petrified and kept swiveling his head back and forth between us.

"Uh, dude, you okay?"

I waved him off.

"Fuck, Alice. That hurt."

"Good," she snapped. She came and stood before me, eyes blazing. "I warned you, Jasper. I told you not to fuck my brother over. I fucking warned you!"

"Shit, chère, I didn't do anything!"

"Then why is he home moping? Why did he fucking _flinch_ when I asked him how things were with you? Why, the fuck, does he look like he hasn't slept in two days?"

I was honest to god stunned. I assumed after the little show Edward had given me with his "friend" Riley, that he was celebrating his new "out" status, that even though he seemed angry when we spoke, he was moving on. It didn't occur to me that he was still upset.

I'd never been in a situation like that, never been with anyone that hoped for anything more from me—wanted more maybe, yet they knew it wouldn't happen—only it seemed Edward did. I never made any promises, not to Edward or anyone else, and still he was upset at seeing me with Seth, even though he was doing the same thing with Riley.

"Ah, crap Alice, I don't know." I stood up and threw away the napkins, touching my face gingerly. "I truly don't know, Alice. The last time I saw him, he had his tongue down the throat of a tall, hot blond."

Alice blanched. "What?"

"Yeah, chère, your sweet, innocent brother seems to be anything but. So don't go lecturing me about my behavior." I was getting pissed, only I realized I didn't know if I was pissed that Alice was attacking me, or that Edward had his tongue in Riley's mouth.

"Jasper?" Alice asked tentatively. "Are you . . . are you jealous?"

"What is it with everyone and the jealousy thing? No, Alice. I'm not jealous. I'm just sick of being cast in the role of villain. I am who I am, and I'm sure you warned Edward off me, but he made his choice. He's a grown man so stop making me out to be some sort of asshole."

The wind seemed to go out of her sails at that. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit," she ranted. "He's my brother, Jasper. I don't want him hurt, but you're right. He's an adult. Damn it," she bitched again, then sat down next to me on the bench. "You okay?"

"Well, I may have to go to a leather bar now to find someone who thinks these bruises are hot," I joked.

Alice snorted.

"But I'll live. Hell, I have a sister. I'd probably have done the same."

"What do you want, Jasper?"

"World peace?"

She punched my arm lightly. "I meant with Edward. Do you _want_ to see him again?"

It was a valid question, and one that wasn't easy to answer. I was split down the middle on it. One half of me was like an eager puppy, sitting up on his haunches and panting with excitement at the idea of seeing Edward again. The other half was . . . scared, because I didn't like all the complications, all the _feelings_ Edward was engendering in me. It was confusing, and it was messing with my work, too.

I groaned. "I don't know, chère. I like him, a lot. But I can't do monogamous. You know this."

"Can't or won't, Jasper?"

"Can't, won't, does it make a difference? It's what I do, Alice. It's who I am. It's how I'm inspired, how I work. It's me."

"We all find inspiration in different things, Jasper, and new things inspire just as well, if differently, sometimes. If you don't try new things, you never move forward."

"Did you swallow a bumper sticker or something, chère?"

"Asshole."

I smiled at her. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"God only knows why," she said.

Three hours later I was finally done on campus and walking up the steps to the loft. Although it was relatively dark in the stairwell, I could make out the unmistakable form of Edward sitting and leaning against my door. He scrambled to stand when he saw me.

"Hi," I said, and I hated the note of uncertainty in my voice.

"Hi, Jasper."

I _really_ hated that I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

I nodded. Edward stepped aside, making sure not to touch me as I unlocked and opened the door. He followed me in, and when I turned to shut the door, I heard him hiss.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching out touch my face.

I jerked back. "Go ask Alice," I quipped.

"God damn it," he muttered. "I'm going to kill her."

"Don't worry yourself about it none, chère. She and I are sorted out. We're cool."

"Still, Jasper, I didn't ask her . . . I mean, I didn't tell her . . . shit," he spat. "This is not . . ." he took a deep breath, and I watched his hands clench and unclench as he tried to regain his composure.

"Why are you here, Edward?" I finally asked.

"Because I want you, Jasper."

Such a simple statement, and yet it was fraught with so much; so much meaning, so much emotion, so much desire.

"Fuck, Edward," I said and walked away, hands in my hair, tugging. "I don't . . . I . . ."

"What?" he pressed. "You don't want me too? If that's it, just fucking say so, and I'll walk out the door right now, Jasper. But if you feel something, anything, please tell me. Tell me I'm not alone here. Tell me I'm not completely crazy."

I could sense him behind me. He wasn't touching me. In fact, he wasn't even that close to me, and yet I could feel him, sense him, the burn of him, even through my clothes.

Then he touched me.

It was like fire, his touch, liquid in my veins and scalding through me. I felt poised on the edge of a knife, desire coursing through me, while reason and fear tugged at me. I turned and looked at him. I looked at his pale skin and crimson mouth, the column of his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed in time to his breaths, his tongue as it peeked out and wet his lips, the copper of his hair, shimmering along his arms and creating a halo about his head, before I finally, finally looked at his green eyes, filled with so much want, so much need and naked desire, that they were nearly grey, viridian and stormy.

He didn't have a chance.

_I_ didn't have a chance.

My mouth was on his in a heartbeat, less even, feasting on him, tasting him before breaking off, holding him away from me, even as I felt him strain to press against me, even as I needed to feel the weight of him. "I can't make any promises, Edward. I don't do relationships. I'm not what you need."

"But you're what I want," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I've spent too much of my life not doing, not taking, what I want. I'm done. Done always doing what's right. Done with being afraid of trying new things, of exploring. I know you aren't making me any promises, and I know you can't give me all of yourself. But whatever part you can give me, I take it."

It was selfish of me, but I thrilled to his words. Somewhere deep inside, a little part of me cried out that it was wrong, but the feel of his skin under my hands and his tongue in my mouth silenced it, ruthlessly. At that moment, I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anyone. The way he was giving himself up to me, the way he was throwing all caution to the wind, like that first time together at the exhibit, it was thrilling, intoxicating, and I was drunk on it, on him.

"Fuck, chère," I groaned against his skin. "You taste so good."

We were skin and tongues, hands and mouths, and when he pressed me down on the bed and took me in his mouth, I cried out and thrust my hips, wanton and desperate, torn between wanting to shoot down his throat and flipping him over and riding him hard, and giving up entirely when he swallowed around me, taking me all the way down. I think I screamed when I came, overwhelmed by his admission, his passion, his sensuality.

Only Edward didn't stop, he continued sucking and lapping at me, his hands stroking my body, touching me everywhere, never letting me get soft, bringing me back to full hardness. He reached for the condoms and lube, tossing the foil packet at me and reaching behind himself, fingers slick and wicked.

This was another Edward entirely. He was taking, demanding, expecting. Edward had previously described himself as "controlled" and "uptight," but in that moment he was _in _control, and anything but uptight. He was confident and assured, and sexy as all fuck. He poured lube over my cock, giving it a few strong strokes, before gripping me at the base and lowering himself onto me.

"Christ, chère." The moan escaped me without thought as he took control, sitting astride me as if he was born to. And God, the way he looked riding me—his body so lean and smooth, moving sinuously above me. His skin shone with sweat, glistening and shiny, as his hips rolled against me.

I hadn't lied before, he was gorgeous in the throes of passion—the eroticism and sensuality that lurked beneath his reserved exterior were on vibrant display. I wondered if that was how he looked when he played the piano, if that ardor extended to more than sex.

I made to sit up, but he planted a hand on my chest and tried to hold me down as he raised and lowered his ass. I let him lead, let him set the pace for a few minutes, before I planted my feet on the mattress, gripped his hips and slammed up into him.

"Oh fuck!" he cried out.

"Yes," I hissed, then drove up into him again. He fell forward, his arms bracing him on either side of me as I crashed into him again and again. I kept my eyes on his face, wanting to see the instant he fell apart, watching as he unraveled before me, giving all of himself to the moment.

It was stunning, and I was swept away with him, tumbling headlong into this new . . . whatever it was that Edward and I had, and when we finally stilled, languid and soft in each other's arms, I held him close, enjoying the feel of his skin on mine, his warmth against my side, and his breath on my neck.

I heard his breathing even out and knew he was sleeping. I lay there a few minutes more, enjoying the heat of him, but soon I felt the persistent pull and tug of my pencils and charcoal. Edward had revived a need in me to return to sketching and drawing. There is an immediacy to it that lacks in painting, where time distorts your memory of the moment you are trying to capture.

I slid out from under him, and watched as his brow creased and he moved to the center of the bed, before he latched onto my pillow and curled up against it, his face smoothing out once more and settling back into sleep. I had an irrational urge to kiss his forehead, but I went and got a sketchpad and pencils instead. I pulled a chair near the bed, and began to work.

As I drew, I thought over what Edward had said. I wondered what had gone on during the last couple of days, because the Edward that had shown up at my house didn't look, or sound, anything like the Edward that Alice described. True, he did look a little tired, but he still didn't look like a man who had been moping and pining the way Alice described.

I listened to the scratch of graphite on paper as I traced the curve of his upper lip, the perfect Cupid 's bow shape of it, wide and lovely, descending into a lush lower lip, that was full and soft. It was a generous mouth, a sensual mouth, a mouth that begged to be kissed. My pencil continued its journey, outlining the stronger lines of his jaw, including the small cleft in his chin, and shading the smattering of stubble that was beginning to darken it.

I followed the gentle slope of his neck, fanning out into his shoulders and down his arms, until they disappeared under the pillow. It brought my focus back to his face, which had pressed itself into the cotton-clad pile of down, burrowing deeper and gently rubbing against the nap until a small sigh escaped him.

I continued to draw, losing myself in the familiarity of the motions, the smell of the paper and pencil, allowing the carbon to smooth over the texture of the pad. I concentrated on the way Edward's muscles in the high of his back rippled as he shifted in his sleep, and how the skin over his shoulders shone with an ethereal paleness. I paid attention to the way Edward's fingers twitched, bunched the pillowcase, and then settled again, and the way his mouth curved into a smile as Queen Mab danced around his dreams.

I lit a cigarette and then turned the page. I had just barely sketched his outline, and was beginning a few darker strokes when I heard his voice. "I can think of better things for you to do with your mouth."

I grinned and looked up at him. "Can you now, chère?"

"Oh yeah." He drew out the last syllable as he turned and stretched, his muscles taut and lean. Then he ran a hand down his chest, over his stomach, then rubbed the bulge that was evident under the sheet over his hips. "Yeah, definitely."

I stubbed the cigarette out and lowered my legs. "Well, let it never be said I'm not open to suggestion." And soon, the lovely taste of Edward was replacing nicotine and smoke, and the feel of him under me replaced the grit of the paper under my pencil.

The morning light didn't lend a new perspective to my drawings. I thought, perhaps foolishly, that the Edward in my earlier drawings would look somehow different, but he didn't. The same innocence tinged with lust, the same beauty belied by modesty, the same raw sensuality existed. The only difference was that he was no longer a fleeting presence in my life.

Other than my family, and one or two good friends like Alice, only Maria and Peter had any sort of permanence in my life, and they worked in my life because there were no expectations with them. Sometimes we went weeks without seeing each other, but there were never any recriminations, there was no jealousy, just a mutual respect for passion, for desire, for . . . really great fucking sex.

I wasn't sure when Edward had left, but when I'd woken up, he was gone. There was no disappointment at waking up alone, it was something I was quite used to, but I was surprised. I'd expected him to stay, like he did that first night. I don't really know why I expected him to, he didn't stay the second time we were together, but he'd had somewhere to be that time.

I shook myself out of my contemplation and decided to do some more work. Demetri had talked that gallery owner into featuring some of my pieces, and I wanted to have a good selection to choose from. I wasn't as happy with the canvases I'd done of Seth, although one was nice, but I really liked the ones with Edward and Maria, and brought those to Demetri two days later, when we met with the gallery owner, Chelsea.

Chelsea was a pleasant surprise. She was young, younger than I expected for a gallery owner, British, smart as a whip and funny as all hell.

"I know I seem like I'm too young for this, Jasper, but I'm good. It may be Daddy's money that allowed me open this place, but I know art and I know people, and I _know_ we're going to work really well together."

A few minutes later a beautiful young man came in. "Hello, luv," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Alec!" she cried out and turned to hug him back and give him a kiss. "When did you get in?"

"Came here straight from the airport, but I'll let you get back to it." He nodded his head in mine and Demetri's direction. "Plus," he whispered loudly, "I really need the loo."

She snorted as he walked away, watching him with a smile on her face.

"Your," I looked at her hand, but there was no ring, "boyfriend?

"Alec? Heavens no! He's my best friend, my soul mate, my . . . Alec, what is that expression from that movie?" she shouted.

"Peas and carrots," came the yell from the bathrooms.

"Yes! We're like peas and carrots," she said, her face beaming. "Besides, he's strictly dickly. He's going to _love_ your paintings."

We chatted for a little longer, but I didn't see Alec again until we were leaving. I caught him looking at me, but he turned and began talking to Chelsea, apparently uninterested. Demetri and I spoke for a couple more minutes outside the gallery, and then went our separate ways. Chelsea had agreed to put up three of my paintings, and told me that she wanted to use my work in a show she was hoping to put together in two months.

I was in a good mood, and wanted to celebrate, so I called Edward. The phone rang three times and then a woman answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, is Edward there?"

Laughter. "Uh yeah, hold on. Edward, phone!" she yelled. More laughter. Voices.

"Hello," I heard Edward's voice. But before I could say anything, he laughed again. "Riley, knock it off!"

_Riley_.

"Hello?" he asked. "Hello? Hey, Tanya, are you sure someone was there?" I heard him ask just before I hung up. Well, it seemed like Edward already had plans.

A snarl of frustration escaped me before I checked myself. Edward was entitled to see whoever he wanted. Wasn't that what I wanted? No strings? But I couldn't lie to myself, for some reason Riley just rubbed me wrong. I needed to get distracted, fast, so I scrolled through my cell phone until I hit a name that was perfect.

_Maggie_.

Little Maggie, with her curly red hair, fiery eyes, and body that could contort in the most erotic ways. Maggie who had even fewer sexual hang ups than me, and that was saying something. Oh yes, Maggie was the perfect person to take my mind off Edward and Riley.

Four hours later, I flopped down next to her, sweaty and sated, and we both breathed heavy.

"Oh, chère, that was exactly what I needed," I said, smiling a lazy smile as I looked at her.

She chuckled.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, it was obvious you needed it. You fucked me like your arse was on fire." She moved gingerly and laughed again. "And now, I think mine is."

It was my turn to laugh. "C'mere pretty lass," I said in my terrible imitation of her subtle Irish lilt. "I'll kiss it better."

She looked at me, horrified. "That, is the worst brogue I've heard in my life."

"Now you're sassin' me?" I pulled her back and over my lap. "Maybe I should spank it instead of kiss it," I teased.

She wiggled and rubbed against me, my overly sensitive cock twitched and I let out a slow hiss.

"Jasper, even your lovely cock needs a rest, darlin. Now, let me up before we break your pretty peen."

I laughed aloud and let her go. She stood and stretched her lithe, little body and unselfconsciously walked across her apartment, without a stitch on, in full view of the open windows.

"You're shameless, you know that?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Eh, it gives old Mr. Klein a thrill, and I think the high school kid on the third floor across the way gets off from it. Who am I to deny them?"

She grabbed some items from her kitchen and then came back to the bed carrying a tray. We sat and ate cheese and fruit and chocolate, and drank from a bottle of Chianti.

"So, you want to tell me who's got your knickers all in a twist?" she asked.

"What do you mean? No one has my knickers in a twist."

Maggie swung a leg over my lap and straddled me. She tilted the bottle of wine and poured some into my mouth. "I always know when someone is lyin' to me, Jasper." Her voice was sing-song, but her tone was threatening and the bottle tipped a little more. I was having trouble keeping up and a few drops trickled out the side of my mouth.

She leaned forward, licked them up, and breathed into my ear. "I hate liars." Then she bit my earlobe, hard enough to smart, but not so hard that my dick didn't take notice.

I bucked my hips, grabbing the bottle with one hand and Maggie's hair with another, then flipped us over. I took her mouth hard, nipping at her lower lip. "I don't lie, chère." I kissed her again. "I deflect."

She laughed a throaty laugh. "Jasper, darlin', I'm not sure if it's your charm or your cock that I adore most, but if it's your cock that'll be doin the deflecting, please, have at it."

Maggie spent the rest of the night helping me deflect.

But the problem with deflecting, is that sooner or later, you're forced to reflect. And that? That there is a bitch.

After a night cradled tightly in Maggie's thighs, and breakfast with my friend Ben, I went back to the loft to paint. Except that instead of painting, I wound up staring at a blank canvas for an hour, before conceding that my time for deflection was over. I grabbed a beer, flopped on the couch, and spent some time thinking.

There was no ignoring the fact that I wanted Edward, badly. No mistaking the fact that despite my desire for other people as well, Edward was who I dialed first earlier that day, who I wanted to celebrate my news with. No mistaking the fact that everyone else could see how much I wanted him.

I also couldn't deny that while I enjoyed Maggie's company, and that she was a wonderful person in her own right, I was left feeling unsatisfied and, perhaps, a little hollow. She wasn't the celebration I'd envisioned, but the distraction I sought. My news about the deal with Chelsea's gallery would have made Edward smile that beautiful smile of his. He would have kissed me with his pretty mouth and I would have . . .

Yeah.

It occurred to me then that I was the only one complicating things. Edward had already come to me and offered himself on my terms, whatever they were. All I had to do was take it, take him. I scrubbed my hand over my face.

Could it really be that simple?

* * *

_a/n: Can it be that simple? _

_I'll be over there . . . *points to her rock*  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hi there! Sorry about the massive delay, but real life is a bitch and my muse decided to take a vacation. One of these days I'm going to follow her Tahiti. _

_Huge thanks to **Chicklette **__and **rmhale** for their beta brains. They are epic win and any mistakes left behind are my fault._  


* * *

It took me two days to work up the courage to apologize to Riley. I ran through various scenarios in my head, trying to decide if I should be funny or serious, desperate or straightforward. Did I call first, show up at his apartment, or offer to meet him somewhere? Should I bring a peace offering of some type, or abase myself and hope for the best?

In the end, I just decided to suck it up and go over to his place.

I knocked and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The fact that he might not be home, hadn't occurred to me; Riley wasn't a morning person. So, I sat down on the steps and waited a little longer.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only thirty minutes, Riley ran up dressed in work out gear, and drenched with sweat. He pulled up short when he saw me.

"Edward."

"Hey, Rye. I . . . can we talk?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tensed and his brow furrowed, and I cringed inside at the look of pain on his face.

After a moment, he opened his eyes again. "Sure, come on in."

Walking into the apartment and leaving the door open, it was clear Riley expected me to follow him in. Sighing, I did just that, past the living room and into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass, filled it at the sink, and drank.

Even though his back was still to me, I started talking. "Riley, I'm sorry. I never should have . . . that wasn't fair of me, Rye. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

His whole body stiffened and his hands grabbed the edge of the sink, like he was steeling himself for something painful, and I hated that I was the one doing it to him.

"I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. I knew how you felt, and I was being selfish, and it was wrong."

He turned to say something, but I raised my hand and said, "Stop. Please. Let me finish."

When he nodded, I continued. "You're one of my best friends, Rye. You were my first friend at college, my first lover, and one of the most important people in my life. I love you, and I'm sorry it's not the way you want me to love you, but I do, and I need you, Rye. I need you in my life."

"Don't, Edward. Don't apologize. You're not the only one who was part of that." I watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched with the effort of maintaining control.

I took a step forward, but he continued. "I knew what you were doing, Edward, knew you were using me, but I didn't care. But I thought . . . I just thought that if we could be together again, if I could make love to you again, you would realize . . ." his voice trailed off and he shook his head. "You'd already told me earlier, in not so many words, that it wasn't meant to be, but—"

"Stop," I said. "Just stop. We're going in circles here." Tugging at my hair, I continued. "It's just . . . I need to know if we're going to be okay?" I felt a desperate sort of panic. Suddenly, the thought that Riley might not forgive me, or worse, that he wouldn't forgive himself, made my heart hurt. The fact that he might not be able to remain friends with me or, that he wouldn't be a part of my life, had me on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Oh god, Edward," he said, and second later I was wrapped up in sweaty, beautiful, wonderful Riley. "Of course we're going to be okay. Oh shit, of course," he spoke against my shoulder. "We're gonna be okay," he said again, as we clung tight to each other.

"Thank god," I said, hugging him hard.

We hugged for another minute, and then laughed at ourselves for being, in his words, "a pair of queens."

Riley asked me to wait while he took a shower, and told me to call Jake and let him know everything was okay and that he should meet us for lunch.

Jake would be happy that Riley and I resolved things. I didn't relish another tongue lashing like he gave me the day after everything blew up. Jake had read me the riot act, and he was right. Then, I had to tell him about my history with Riley. Obviously, I didn't give him any intimate details, just the gist of our relationship and how we promised to remain friends.

Lunch was an awkward affair, not because of any residual tension between me and Riley, but because Jake teased us relentlessly.

"Ugh, enough already, Jake!" I snapped, after yet another joke about queens and Liza Minnelli.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said, and actually looked a smidge contrite. "Honestly though, I'm glad you guys patched things up.

"Me too," I whispered looking at Riley. "Me too."

His smile was all I needed to know that we were really okay.

That night I planned to stay home and write some new music, but it just wasn't coming to me. Every time I tried to get into a groove, thoughts of Jasper kept intruding. No one had ever turned me on like Jasper did. Riley and I'd had plenty of great sex, and I'd had one or two more inspired partners from the clubs, but no one brought me to the heights of passion and pleasure that Jasper did.

After trying to compose for another half hour, I gave up completely. I needed to talk to someone, and although we'd made up, I didn't feel that talking to Riley about Jasper was a good idea. Jake still wanted to kick Jasper's ass, so he wasn't an option either.

I finally threw my pen down in frustration and called Tanya. I had to tell her everything anyway.

Like Jake, she was completely unsurprised by my homosexuality, and was really only interested in what she considered "the meat" of the conversation, and yes, her pun was absolutely intended.

"So, let me get this straight," Tanya said before taking a sip of her wine. "You like this guy? You really want him? He seems to really want you, but you're not sure he can commit?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"You are so old fashioned, Edward," she said with a laugh.

"Why? Because I want a commitment?"

"Yes! Tell me Edward, have you demanded a commitment from every guy you've fucked?"

I looked around the bar to make sure no one heard us. "Jesus, Tanya!"

"What? I mean seriously, Edward! It's okay to just have fun. It's okay to explore and to enjoy yourself. You've just come out of the closet for fuck's sake! Are you trying to get married already too?"

"No! It's just . . . I mean, sure I have no issue with the occasional one off, I'm no saint, but—"

"But what? But you need to follow some sort of bourgeois moral code? It's okay to fuck someone you'll never see again, but if you actually know their name it has to be more serious? Why can't you just enjoy him for a while? If it's meant to be, well then, it's meant to be. C'mon, Edward, live a little!"

"I didn't like seeing him with that other guy. I thought . . . I don't know. I thought we had a connection. I thought he felt the same way about me."

"Who says he doesn't, Edward?"

I gave her a look that said, "Are you kidding me?"

"Look, Edward, just because he's also seeing other people doesn't mean he isn't feeling something more for you, but that doesn't mean that he's ready to change his entire life for you either. If he feels the same way, he'll come around eventually," she assured me.

"Yeah?"

"Or not."

"Thanks, Tanya," I sniped at her.

"He might not, sweetie. The guy may be completely crazy over you, but he may really be incapable of committing to one person. You'll only find out one way or another if you try."

I sat back and took a sip of my drink, contemplating what Tanya said, continuing to ponder long after our evening ended, and well into the night. Thinking about how I felt around Jasper—apart from the times I was so turned on I couldn't think straight—I realized my desire for him wasn't just physical.

Jasper filled a need in me; one I didn't even realize was there. I never appreciated just how lonely I was before meeting Jasper, and when I was with him, that was eased in a way I'd never achieved with another partner. So much of my life after our parents' death was dedicated to making sure that Alice was taken care of, that she finished high school and went to college, easing her heartaches and heartbreaks over the various boys she dated, that I never really gave much thought to my own life, my own needs.

I was a grown man with almost no experience.

Most men my age, at least my friends, had experimented, not only with their sexuality, but with a variety of partners, scenarios, and fantasies. Although I hadn't lived like a monk, my closeted status ensured that my experience was quite limited.

While Jake and my other childhood friends spent their junior and senior years trying to get into the pants of every girl in school, and succeeding more often than they probably should have. I spent that time pretending to be into my girlfriend. When Bella would kiss me, and eventually when we went further, I always imagined larger, rougher hands gripping me, and hard muscles beneath me.

When Jake lost his virginity, all of us spent the night drinking and celebrating as he regaled us with the details. When I lost mine, I wound up crying in my bewildered girlfriend's arms two days later as I came out to her. Bella was a saint. Not only did she comfort me and help me through it with patience and understanding, but she continued to pretend to be my girlfriend through senior year, until we went off to college. We'd remained friends ever since, and the last time we spoke, she told me she'd just gotten engaged to a great guy named Mike.

In college, I'd only slept with Riley, while my friends either paired off into serious relationships, or explored the limits of their sexuality. My fear of being discovered kept me from engaging in anything like that, and after our parents' death, and until her last year at school, Alice lived with me in their house, so I never brought anyone back home with me.

My trysts were limited to blow jobs in the back of a club, or the occasional one night stand at some trick's place—and I never, ever, stayed the night.

When I finally bought my own house, I busied myself with work, buried myself in it. In that one year, I wrote the score to a small indie film, several songs for a friend's off-Broadway production, and two pieces for Tanya's dance company.

As I lay in bed that night, I contemplated all the things I'd given up, not only by being in the closet, but because I was taking care of Alice. I didn't begrudge it, not at all, but I realized that there were a lot of things I'd missed out on.

I remembered a conversation I had with my dad, when I'd wanted to bail on tryouts for track because I was scared. He quoted one of his favorite authors, Fulton Oursler, to me: "We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for yesterday and fear of tomorrow." When I merely shrugged my shoulders at him, he continued. "Son, when you get older, you look back at things and wonder why you thought they mattered. Did you know that your mother and I almost didn't get married?"

"Really?" I replied.

"Yeah. I was so hung up on what I thought her parents and their country club friends would think of me—I was a penniless student at the time—that I tried breaking up with her. She's the one who quoted Oursler to me. Right before she slapped me upside my head," he chuckled.

I didn't want to miss out on anything again, even if I was risking a broken heart. I didn't want to look back on that time in my life some twenty or thirty years later and wonder if I'd made a mistake walking away from Jasper.

I didn't want to have any regrets.

So, as I finally fell asleep that night, I resolved to see Jasper the next day.

Of course, things with Jasper didn't quite go as I'd planned. Thinking I'd surprise him, I went to his place without calling, and he wasn't there.

So I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was becoming a pattern for me.

By the time he got there, nearly two hours later, my ass had fallen asleep and everything I'd planned to say flew right out of my head. Seeing what Alice had done, made me even more upset and tongue tied.

But then he was the one who seemed lost and confused, and it suddenly seemed so simple. So, I told him I wanted him. I wanted him on whatever terms I could have him, because I sure as shit didn't want to sit with my son one day and tell him how my fears led to regret.

And then I took him.

I took him with a strength and intensity I didn't even know I had, but which I'd seen glimpses of in Jasper's drawings. It was powerful, abandoned, and we came together before collapsing in a sated mass of sweaty flesh.

Later that night, I watched him for a while as he drew me, allowing him to believe I was still sleeping. I'd never seen him at work, only the final product. His jaw twitched as he drew, and sometimes he'd stick his tongue out and leave it there when he was concentrating on something, the middle of his brow scrunching up too. It made him look so young, childlike and innocent, without any of the confident, sexual swagger I was used to.

I watched his lips wrap around the cigarette, and thought about the way they felt on my skin and wrapped around my cock; I started to get hard. So, I broke my silence and said, "I can think of better things for you to do with your mouth."

His answering smirk was insouciant. "Can you now, chère?"

I turned over and stretched, arching my back a little. "Oh yeah." I ran my hand down my chest and rubbed my hard on. "Yeah, definitely."

Jasper put out his cigarette in a hurry and crawled over to me on the bed. "Well, let it never be said I'm not open to suggestion."

That he was open to suggestion made me very happy, because the things he did to me with his mouth were so, so good. Jasper kissed and licked me all over, murmuring again and again how good I tasted. He held my hips down as he took me in his mouth, controlling the pace, the intensity, everything. I let him lead, and allowed him to take me to those places no one else had, and I suspected no one else ever would.

He stayed there until I was soft and limp in his mouth, suckling on me like I was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. And then, when he was inside of me, he moved slow and sinuous, like he was savoring the feeling, drawing it out. His hands roved over me, as if the very texture of my skin excited him. All the while he didn't stop whispering in my ear, "You feel so good under me . . . so hot, tight . . . look at you, so fucking beautiful."

He wrapped an arm under my knee and changed his angle, delving deeper into me. "Can you feel that, chère?" A tremor ran through him. "Can you feel what you do to me?"

He wrapped his other hand around my cock and stroked me in time to his thrusts. When I began to whimper and tense, right on the cusp of my orgasm, he said, "I love to watch you come."

I threw my head back in response, my back arching as I came.

"So fucking beautiful."

It was almost a benediction.

Jasper's movements continued, stroking me through my orgasm, stretching it out. Then I felt him lose rhythm and jerk, thrusting one last time as he pushed flush against me and I felt him pulsing inside me as he came, a low, drawn out moan leaving him, before he collapsed on top of me, both of us panting and sweaty.

Eventually, however, he slid off me and grabbed a t-shirt from the floor that he used to clean us both up, then climbed back into the bed with me. We lay on our sides looking at each other, and talked for a while.

Jasper told me a bit more about his confrontation with Alice, although he wouldn't tell me everything they said, only that he thought she hurt her hand worse than his face, and that things between them were cool. I told him a little about what I was working on—a solo piano piece I wanted to perform at an upcoming concert. Hopefully, I could convince the director to let me do it.

I don't know who fell asleep first, but when I woke up, he was pressed against my back, his leg tucked between mine, and his arm was thrown over my middle, holding me.

It felt good.

I left before he woke up though. There was still a lot we had to figure out between us, and I didn't want Jasper to feel pressured, to think it was a mistake to continue to explore what we'd started. I needed to give him his space.

And I needed to find mine.

The next day I wrote for several hours, making enormous headway on my new piece. I felt invigorated and inspired, lighter even. When I finished, I called Jake, Riley, Alice, Tanya, and another couple that Jake and I had known since high school, Angela and Ben, and invited them all to dinner.

I kept it simple, spreading out all the ingredients for taco night on the counter. Alice made margaritas, and soon enough, we were all tipsy and laughing. Riley was regaling everyone with stories from college, and before I knew it, Alice, Riley and Jake had ganged up on me and were embarrassing the hell out of me.

"So we're at this club, and it's Edward's first time there," Riley began.

I groaned. "No, no, no."

"Oh this is gonna be good," Alice laughed.

"Oh, it is," Riley said with a smirk. "Anyway . . ."

As Riley continued with the story, Tanya called me to the phone.

I grabbed the phone, "Hello."

"So, Edward says—"

"Riley, knock it off!" I laughed. God, that story was so embarrassing. "Hello? Hello? Hey, Tanya, are you sure someone was there?" I looked at the caller ID, but it just said _Private Caller. _I hung up the phone and walked back to the table.

"Yeah, some guy asked for you," Tanya answered.

I shrugged, "Well, no one said anything."

"And the next thing I know, Edward is grabbing her crotch and his eyes get really huge . . ."

"Oh god," I muttered and buried my head in my arms.

"He looks at me and yells, 'she has a cock!'"

Everyone started laughing hysterically, and even though I was dying of embarrassment, I couldn't help but laugh as well.

Alice was wiping tears from her eyes, and asked, "Oh my god, what did she do?"

"She took me back to her place and proved it," I said.

There was a shocked silence, and then I said, "I'm kidding! Jesus! Tell a few people you're gay and suddenly everyone thinks you're fucking drag queens!"

After I picked the tortilla chips out of my hair, we began cleaning up the kitchen. Once the table was cleared, Tanya and I stayed to do the dishes, while everyone else continued drinking and talking in the living room.

I was washing while Tanya dried, and as I handed her a dish I said, "So, I took your advice."

"You did?" she asked. "You saw Jasper?"

"Yeah," I replied while scrubbing the skillet. "I thought about it a lot after we talked the other night, and I decided I don't want to have any regrets."

"Wow, good for you, Edward," she said with a smile.

"What the fuck?" Jake's voice boomed across the kitchen. "You saw that asshole again?"

"He's not an asshole."

Jake got in my face. "He doesn't give a shit about you."

"You don't know a fucking thing about it!" I shouted.

"C'mon guys, this isn't helping," Tanya interjected.

"How could you go see him, Edward? After he was all over that kid at the club!"

I laughed. "If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Jake, that those comments are rich coming from the guy who's fucked half the female population of this city! Is it because we're gay? Does it make it okay that you're fucking women, but for some reason if Jasper is fucking other guys, or hell, if I want to, that's a problem?"

Jake blanched. "No! Shit, Edward, no. It's not that."

"Then what is it, Jake? What? Jasper made me no promises. You know what that's like, don't you, Jake?"

"That's not fair, Edward," Tanya interjected.

"Don't, Tanya. Don't defend him right now. He's a fucking hypocrite!"

"Damn it, Edward, you deserve better than that. You deserve better than someone like me!"

"This thing with Jasper may not have started in any conventional way, and I'm not going to lie, I hope it turns into something more, but I'm going into this with my eyes wide open. I know who Jasper is, and what he's like. He hasn't lied to me, Jake. Not once. He's been upfront with me, and I know what I'm getting into. We aren't promising each other anything just yet."

Jake's shoulders sagged and he ran his hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh.

"Jake, I've never judged you for the way you live your life, so please don't judge him, or me. I need to do this. I need to see what's out there, _who_ is out there. Maybe I need to get my heart broken, I don't know. The one thing I do know is that right now I want Jasper, and I'm not going to let fear or difficulties get in my way. What if he's the one, Jake?"

"What if he's not?" Riley's voice interjected.

I turned to the doorway, where Riley stood, hands in his pockets, face drawn.

"Then I get hurt, Rye. But I also don't spend the rest of my life wondering _what if?_"

Riley nodded, but didn't say anything else, just grabbed the blender of margaritas and went back to the dining room. I turned back to Jake.

"You know better than anyone how much I haven't done in my life, Jake. I'm at a place now where I get to live a little. Don't begrudge me that."

"I don't, Edward. It's just . . . don't get me wrong . . . it's not that I don't respect all those girls I get with, but I'm also not bringing them home to meet my mom, you know what I mean? And you, Edward? You're the bring-home-to-mom type."

I laughed. "And _you_ are a romantic at heart, Jake." I hugged him. "Don't sell yourself short. You're the bring-home-to-mom type too."

He hugged me back, hard. "Fine. But if he breaks your heart, I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

"Jesus," Tanya said. "You boys create more drama than a gaggle of girls at a Twilight convention."

After that, we had a few more drinks, and then Ben and Angela went home, her pregnancy assuring him a designated driver for months. Jake wound up passed out on my couch, while Alice and Riley curled up together in the guest room. I offered Tanya my bed, but she insisted we share.

The morning light saw us cuddling. Her head was on my chest and she was curled up tight against my side. It might not have been Jasper, but it was nice to wake up with someone in _my_ bed.

The phone rang, jolting us both from our comfy spots.

"Ugh, who is calling at such an ungodly hour on the weekend?" Tanya groused before turning over.

I grabbed my phone, but it said just said _Private Caller_. I answered, "Hello?"

"G'mornin, chère."

"Jasper," I whispered.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No, I've been awake for a few minutes. Hold on," I said, and I got out of bed so I wouldn't disturb Tanya. I grabbed a robe and threw it on.

"Tell him I said it's bad form to call before noon," Tanya shouted as I was leaving the room.

"A girl, Edward?" Jasper teased. "Something you're not telling me?"

"Shut it. That's just Tanya. We had a little too much to drink last night, so everyone stayed here."

"Oh, I thought," he mumbled something that sounded like "Riley."

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just thought you were with Riley last night."

"Why would you think . . ."

_Private Caller_.

"That was you on the phone last night!" I said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

There was a long pause before Jasper answered. "I heard you talking to Riley, and I figured you were, ah, busy."

_Was Jasper jealous?_

"Well, I was busy," I conceded. "A bit of an impromptu dinner party."

"Oh, cool," he said.

I knew I shouldn't read anything into it, but I thought I heard relief in his voice.

"Anyway," he continued, and proceeded to tell me about a new gallery that would be showcasing his work. He was excited and asked if I wanted to go out later that night.

As if I would say no.

I smiled as I poured myself coffee. When I turned around Riley was watching me. "You look happy," he noted.

"I am," I replied as I poured a cup for him too.

"Thanks," he said as he took it. He looked at me again. "That him on the phone?"

"Yeah."

"You seeing him later?

"Yes, I'm seeing _Jasper_ later." I was a little irritated that Riley wasn't saying his name.

Riley rolled his eyes. "Don't get shitty with me. It's early and I haven't finished my coffee yet."

I conceded the point. Riley was a bear before his morning coffee.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you to have fun. You look happy, Edward. If Jasper is putting that look on your face, that's fine by me. As long as he _keeps_ putting that look on your face," he added meaningfully.

"Thanks, Rye."

We finished our coffee in silence, and slowly the others started making their way into the kitchen in various stages of wakefulness. Finally, everyone got dressed and left.

Alice was last, already showered and ready to go. I looked at her. "You and I still have to have a little talk about what you did the other day."

"No, I get it," she said. "I was out of line, but if it was me, what would you have done?"

When I didn't answer she said, "See? Not so easy to just sit back. But, I promise not to interfere anymore."

When I gave her a look of disbelief she laughed and said, "Okay, I promise not to interfere too much."

"Thanks, Alice," I said as I hugged her.

"I love you, Edward. Just be—"

"Careful, I know."

"No. Be happy, Edward. Okay? Just be happy."

I smiled. "That's what I'm going for."

She nodded and walked toward her car. She opened the door and turned to me again. "Oh alright, and careful too, okay?"

I laughed. "Get out of here already."

As she drove off, I looked up at the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day, and I hoped that boded well for a great night.

* * *

_a/n: I hope that clears up what was going on in Edward's head. _

_I know it's poor payment for their love and support but please go read **Chicklette's **__The History of Now __and **rmhale's** The Path to Absolution.  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Life has been more than a little out of my control this year. Thanks for your patience._

_As always, my love and thanks to **chicklette **for her beta skills, but even more so for her friendship.  
_

* * *

Not gonna lie, when I hung up with Edward, I had a smile a mile wide on my face. He hadn't _been_ with Riley. I didn't know what it was about Riley that rubbed me the wrong way; maybe it was because it was obvious that the boy was in love with Edward, I wasn't sure. All I did know was that I didn't want them to get together. Yes, it was beyond selfish and disgustingly smug to be happy that Edward hadn't actually been with someone else given my own exploits, but nevertheless there it was. The added plus was that I was going to see him later that evening, and I couldn't wait to have my hands and mouth all over him again.

I spent the day painting, and was surprised when I looked at the time and realized I only had thirty minutes to get to Edward's house. Although I'd called to ask him out, he convinced me to come to his place and let him make me dinner. Not that I needed much convincing to spend a night "in" with him. Taking the fastest shower of my life, I rushed out of the apartment and over to Edward's, pulling up only five minutes late. Holding the bottle of wine I'd grabbed on my way out, I rang the bell.

"It's open," Edward called out.

Letting myself in, I followed the sound of his voice. "I'm in the kitchen."

Walking through the foyer, I took in the soothing earth tones of Edward's home, a blend of browns, grays, ivories, greens, and rusts that reminded me of Edward himself. Entering the kitchen, I found him standing at the stove, and stopped for a moment to take in the sight: worn jeans clung to his ass just right, and a tight t-shirt stretched across his shoulders and moved with the muscles of his back.

"Hi."

Edward turned the knob on the stove and moved the saucepan over to the side, then turned around. "Sorry about that, but I couldn't leave the sauce when you knocked."

He walked over and stopped right in front of me, and we just stared at each other for a moment. Edward's lip began to quirk up in a smile, and his eyes slid over to the bottle in my hand before reaching out to take it.

"Thanks. I'll go open it." Edward made to walk away, but I pulled him back.

"Where do you think you're going, _chère_?"

"To open the wine?" he teased.

"Not before giving me a proper hello," I demanded.

"Oh! Excuse me, where are my manners?" Edward extended his hand, "Welcome."

"Oh, _chère_, you really wanna play games with me?" I teased.

The smile that had been playing at the corner of his lips erupted in full. "Maybe?"

Grabbing his hand tight, I pulled him up close and wrapped my other hand around the back of his neck. Our lips ghosted across each other, barely touching.

"Ah but, _chère_, didn't you know? I always win," I whispered into his mouth before I pulled away and walked around him to the stove, trying to stifle a laugh at the soft whimper he made. "So, what's for dinner?"

His burgeoning erection rubbed against my ass as he pressed against me. Grazing the head of my dick with the back of his hand, he reached around to the drawer next to me, pulled out a wine opener, and then stepped back.

"That," he said as he smacked my hand away from the saucepan on the stove, "is dessert. I'm grilling steaks for dinner."

He turned and opened the wine, then reached up to grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet.

As he poured, I ran my nose along his neck, inhaling the scent of him before biting down just hard enough to elicit a moan. "Mmmm, I like dessert . . . and steaks."

"You're incorrigible," Edward said as he turned and handed me my glass.

I lifted it in salute. "You started it."

"Touché," he admitted, before we clinked our glasses together and drank.

Dinner was easy, the conversation light and fun and full of innuendo. Edward showed me around his house after, and when we passed by a room with a beautiful piano in it, I asked him to play something for me. He tried to back out of it, but I put on the pressure and the charm and then, finally, guilt. I told him he'd seen mine, I wanted to "see" his.

"What do you want me to play?"

"Anything. I'm not picky," I told him.

Sitting at the piano, he looked thoughtful and then he smiled before he began to play . . . Chopsticks. When I cried foul, he laughed and switched to a piece by Thelonius Monk. Edward's long, nimble fingers danced across the keys and the notes were perfect, but it felt like he was holding something back. It struck me that I wasn't seeing the passion I knew surged just below his surface. I applauded when he finished and he blushed, then stood and led me back through the house to the kitchen.

Edward poured me another glass of wine, before rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes. I watched as he filled one side of the sink with warm, soapy water; watched as the soap gathered along his arms when he put them in and began washing; watched his long fingers slip and slide along a plate, imagining the silken feel of them on my skin.

Draining my wine glass I stepped behind him and reached around, placing my hands on top of his, and began to help. I kissed the side of his neck as we rinsed a plate, and enjoyed hearing the pace of his breathing pick up. We set a sensual rhythm as we washed and rinsed the plates, our fingers gliding over the smooth porcelain, mine slipping between his. Grinding against him, I slid my soapy hands up and down his forearms making them slick. He moaned and dropped a pan into the sink; the water sloshed over, soaking his shirt, our feet, the floor.

He turned in my arms and wrapped his wet ones around me, pressing his mouth to mine. We were both dripping and soapy, and neither of us gave a shit. I could see his skin through his pale, wet shirt and my hands made their way to the hem, and then up and under so I could feel the expanse of his back, the play of his muscles under soft skin. When Edward's foot slipped out from under him, we didn't even pause, just slid down to the floor until he was splayed out under me, mindless of the wet mess beneath us.

He was hot in my hands, his skin almost feverish despite the cooling water, and I couldn't touch him enough. My mouth and fingers roamed his body, and I felt my cock pulse with every whimper, moan, and whispered profanity that escaped him. I bit and nipped my way down his body, tearing open the button flies of his jeans and mouthing at his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as I licked the head through the thin cotton, making it wet enough to outline the ridges.

"Off, off, off," he pled as he tried to push his pants down, but the wet denim and cotton didn't slide easily, and as soon as we got it down around his thighs, we gave up all pretense of trying and I sucked him into my mouth, leaving his legs tangled and bound in the fabric.

His cock was thick and full against my tongue, and his scent as I mouthed around the base and his balls was all man and musk and Edward. I had wanted to feel him come undone in my mouth, taste him, make him scream, but I suddenly, urgently, needed to be in him. Fishing around in my pocket, I pulled out a condom and while my mouth continued to taste and lick and suck, my hands made quick work of pushing down my own jeans and rolling on the condom.

Without warning I flipped him over. His legs were still tangled in his pants, but his ass was on beautiful display. I leaned over and whispered, "Gonna fuck you now, _chère_."

"Oh God, yes, fuck, yes," he growled out.

Tearing open a pocket-sized packet of lube, I coated my dick and smeared the excess into his crack. He was tight like that, trussed up and on his stomach, so I went slow, inching in and backing out a little at a time, Edward squirming and panting beneath me, begging for more, more, more.

I pressed down on his back with one hand and held him still as I bottomed out. When I'd regained control of myself, I slid my hands under him, hooked him by the shoulders and began to move, fucking into him slow and steady, whispering into his ear how good he felt, how tight he was around my cock, how beautiful he looked beneath me.

His cries and whimpers of pleasure were accompanied by the soft slaps of our wet skin and the steady, persistent drip of the faucet we'd apparently not shut completely.

"Jasper, please," Edward begged as he tried to insinuate a hand between himself and the floor.

Sitting back on my heels, I pulled his hips up and said, "Yeah, let me see you touch yourself. Wanna watch you come for me, _chère_."

I kept talking to him as he stroked himself, telling him how much I loved to watch my dick slide in and out of his beautiful ass, how good he felt, and how hard he was going to make me come, until I felt him tense beneath me and come with a shout. I grabbed his hips tight and began to fuck him harder, faster, reveling in the tight clench of his muscles around me as he rode his orgasm out. When I came, I collapsed against him, taking us both down to the floor again in a wet, messy, sated puddle.

We lay there for a minute, catching our breath, before we got up and Edward led us to his room to change out of our wet clothes and clean ourselves up. Instead of going back to the kitchen to wipe up the floor, we collapsed on the bed and talked about inconsequential things until we both fell asleep.

The morning dawned grey and misty, and I wanted to wake Edward up, to watch him move under and over me, and fall apart around me. But when I turned over, it was to an empty bed. My clothes were still wet, so I borrowed some from Edward and got dressed. When I opened the door, there was the faint sound of music. Walking down the hall, I heard the music stop then start again. I discovered Edward at the piano, a pencil in his mouth as he played a few more notes, before pausing to scribble on a paper in front of him.

There was a hint of stubble along his jaw, and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. One of Edward's hands went to his hair and tugged, leaving the strands standing on end, and I would have laughed at how it made him seem like a nutty professor, but then he placed the pencil back in his mouth, turned the page over, and began to play.

The music was beautiful, and I was mesmerized as I watched him. He was much less reserved than the night before, passionate and fiery. The piece was soulful, and filled with an indefinable emotion. Yet just as I was losing myself in the song, it abruptly ended.

"Why did you stop?"

Edward jumped when I spoke, but then he smiled. "That's as far as I've gotten. I haven't finished it yet."

I walked toward him. "It's beautiful. What's it called?"

A light blush appeared on his cheeks, but he shook his head. "I haven't decided." He stood and leaned against the piano.

I boxed him in against the piano and kissed him. "I liked watching you play it. Play it again."

"Nuh uh," he hummed as I kept kissing him. "I never play for someone before it's finished."

"Ah, but I've already heard it."

He shook his head. "Nope. Nice try though."

"Fine." I didn't _think_ I whined, but Edward laughed at me.

"C'mon. There's coffee."

The next two weeks passed in a blur of work and fucking, and I could honestly say I wasn't sure which was going better. In addition to my usual pieces, I'd begun an entire pencil series based on Edward.

"_Mijo_, these are beautiful."

"Uh huh."

"Seriously, baby, this one—"

I growled. "Maria, please shut the fuck up right now. I . . . oh God, fuck Peter, yeah, just like that."

Maria laughed and Peter, much to my chagrin, pulled his mouth off my cock. "Maria, my love, less with the talking and more with the fucking."

A couple of hours later, the three of us were sprawled across the bed sated and languid. I got up to use the bathroom, grabbing the cigarette from Maria's mouth on the way and laughing at her muttered curse. When I returned, I saw Peter looking over the new drawings.

"She's right you know? These are good, Jasper. Real good."

I shrugged and gestured to one of the drawings. "He makes it easy."

Peter turned and smirked. "You know there's a joke in there about making it hard?"

"Ass," I replied.

He laughed and said, "I can see why though. He's beautiful. Sensual. But you can still see something innocent there."

My fingers traced the lines on the paper, remembering the feel of his skin and muscles under them. "That pretty much describes him."

Peter pulled me closer, his hands sliding down my sides and resting on my hips, thumbs stroking slow circles. I tipped my head back against his shoulder. "It describes you too," he whispered against my ear. "Well, maybe not the innocent part."

I chuckled. "I was until your girl there got a hold of me."

"_Mijo_, please. You were _never_ innocent."

We all laughed at that.

Peter's fingers continued to skim over my body as we looked at the drawings. "We'd love to meet him you know."

Dreamy and aroused I mumbled, "Hmm?"

"Your Edward," Peter continued. "We'd love to meet him."

Peter's hand drifted down to my semi-hard cock and began to stroke me. "Beautiful," he whispered.

And then it was there, an image in my mind's eye, a tangle of limbs, Maria's dark skin and Edward's fair, Peter's silver-blond hair in a nest of Edward's copper, and my hands on them all. I thrust forward into Peter's hand, eager. "Yeah," I drawled. "Yeah."

A few days later, Chelsea and I were working at the gallery. I was still finishing out the collection, but I'd brought a couple of my earlier pieces, leaving the Edward-centered pieces at home, although I described several to her. We'd have to flesh the exhibit out more, but we had a general plan in place of how many pieces and how they would be displayed.

As Chelsea walked away to answer the phone, I frankly appraised her. She had a luscious body, small and curvy, the kind you enjoyed putting your hands on and squeezing. Leaning against a table, I let my eyes rove and adjusted myself as I imagined what it would feel like to have her under me.

"Don't even think about it, mate."

I turned my head to find Chelsea's friend Alec staring at me, an amused smile on his face.

Cocking my head to the side, I turned back to keep staring at her. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Cee Cee never dates clients. Never. Besides, I thought you swung a different way."

Standing up and walking closer to him, "Your way?" I let my eyes rove up and down his body. "Yeah, that too."

"Talented and flexible. Quite the heady combination," Alec replied. "But I don't think we'd be compatible."

"Why's that?"

"I've had my fill of bad boys and you, Jasper, are a very naughty boy."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Fair enough. But you can't blame a guy for trying."

Chelsea's warm laughter followed right behind. "It's true, Jasper. Alec is only dating sweet boys now, isn't that right, luv?"

Ducking his head, I could see that Alec was blushing. Turning to Chelsea I teased, "Looks like a very sweet someone."

"Hush, I don't kiss and tell."

"Lies!" Chelsea said with a laugh.

"Wench! I'm going in back to get something to drink and banish this conversation from my memory."

"You will be telling me later over margaritas!" She yelled at his retreating back.

"Not tonight I won't!"

She turned back to me still laughing. "Anyway, sorry about that."

I waved her off. "Nothing to apologize for, _chère_."

We spent a little more time chatting, then I left and headed to the store. I was having dinner with Rose and Emmett, at Emmett's place and promised to pick up dessert. It didn't take long for the two of them to hit it off once they met at the graduation exhibition, and they'd been inseparable ever since.

It was cute watching the two of them. Rose gave directions and Emmett followed, but he never let her head get too big. Either he'd make a self-deprecating remark that made her soften in ways I'd never seen before, or he'd just back her up against the counter and kiss her until she shut up. In a lot of ways, they reminded me of our parents; I figured that those two were going to be forever.

I watched Rose over the rim of my wine glass as she watched Emmett over the rim of hers. He'd moved into the kitchen to wash the dishes, insisting that Rose hang out with me.

"You're halfway down the aisle, aren't you?" I teased.

Rose blushed. My sister Rose fucking blushed. Rose. Never. Blushed.

"Oh fuck, _chère_, you really are, aren't you?" I asked, no longer teasing.

"I . . . I," she stuttered, "I'm completely gone on him, Jasper."

Grabbing hold of her hand I said, "He's a good guy, Rose. A real good guy."

"I know," she said with a smile. Then she shook her head and asked, "What about you? Seeing anyone?"

"Awww, you know me, I'm seeing lots of someones," I told her with a smirk on my face.

"Jesus, Jasper, if Momma could hear you now!"

"Well then, it's a good thing she can't, ain't it?"

Rose just shook her head at me. She took a sip of her wine then asked, "What about Edward?"

I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face. "What about him?"

Rose's hand was already on its way back to her glass by the time I registered that she'd smacked the back of my head. I heard Emmett laugh from the doorway.

"Glad it's not just me, bro."

"Ah shit, man, I should be used to it, but dayum," I turned to look at her. "Momma's got nothin' on you girl."

Emmett paled a little. "Your mom does that too?"

Rose and I looked at each other and cracked up.

"Oh, _chère_," she said shaking her head.

Emmett walked back into the kitchen, wringing the dish towel and muttering about crazy Cajun women.

Rose's laughter cut off, and she turned to me. "Seriously, little brother, what's up with you and Edward?"

I shrugged. "He may be one of the someones."

"Jasper," she said, exasperation coloring her tone. "What are you doing? He's a sweet guy, and Alice is my friend."

I held up my hand to stop her from continuing. "I know that, Rose," my voice was harder than I'd intended. "I've already talked to Alice, but more importantly, Edward knows the score. He's not going into this blind. And I know he's . . . different, but we've got it under control, so enough, okay?"

She looked at me for minute, before nodding her head. "Alright, but just," at my warning glance she smiled ruefully, "Just be careful, alright? For both your sakes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I replied and drank more of my wine.

We changed topics to my show at Chelsea's gallery in a few weeks, and Emmett returned to the table. He was excited for me, and we talked a bit about our new pieces, promising to come down to see each other's work. He was in his last year of school finally, and I thought that I should probably introduce him to a few people, including Chelsea and Maria. Maybe they could help him out.

Rose's phone rang as we talked, and she got up to answer as Emmett and I continued swapping stories. I heard Rose's voice soft in the background, but wasn't paying much attention to her, until she came back to the doorway, her face pale.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Emmett asked.

She looked at me, "Jasper, it's Daddy," her voice broke. "He's been shot."

It felt like the floor dropped out from under me. "What?"

"That was Momma. He . . . he," she swallowed hard, "He's in the hospital. St. Mary's."

"What's the prognosis?" Emmett asked.

Rose shook her head. "They don't know yet. He's still in surgery."

I stood and grabbed my jacket. "C'mon."

"What?" Rose looked about, confused.

"Airport," Emmett replied, and I nodded.

"Yeah, _chère_, we're going home."

The words seemed to snap Rose out of it, and she quickly grabbed a bag and threw some things together. I didn't even stop to contemplate the fact that her things were at Emmett's place. Emmett drove us over to my loft, and I threw a change of clothes and my toothbrush into my messenger bag, alongside my ever present sketchbook and pencils. On our way to the airport, I called Edward. We were supposed to meet the following day, and I reasoned that I should let him know I wouldn't be there, but a little part of me also realized that I just wanted to talk to him, wanted his voice to soothe me and tell me that everything would be alright.

He didn't answer.

A few hours later, Rose and I were on a flight home to Texas. I'd always known that Emmett was a great guy, but seeing the way he took care of Rose eased my mind. I knew she'd always be safe with him. It did give me a moment's pause to wonder if anyone would ever think that of me, but I shook it off. It wasn't the time for that type of contemplation, even if I'd really wanted it.

When we arrived at the hospital, Momma hugged us so tight and then fussed over us, exclaiming that we shouldn't have come, but we could see the relief in her eyes. Daddy was in the ICU, but he hadn't woken up yet. She told us that he'd been shot trying to stop a robbery—two shots, one to the shoulder and one to the gut, nicking his spleen. The doctors weren't too worried about the shoulder wound, other than keeping it stabilized. The big worry was the amount of damage to his spleen and how long he'd been bleeding.

We sat in the family waiting room, away from the lobby full of cops, drinking crappy coffee and catching Momma up on our lives, while we waited for some new news about my dad. When I told Momma about my upcoming show, she began fussing all over again; worrying that the trip would mess everything up, but I assured her that everything would be fine. There were still a few weeks until the show, and I did have a lot of pieces I could use.

"Well," Momma said, "Maybe your daddy and I can come."

"Momma," I began, but then stopped because I realized that even though we didn't even know if my Daddy was going to make it through the night, Momma needed to believe it, needed to plan for a future that included him. "Okay, Momma. As soon as Daddy wakes up, I'll look into flights for you."

Her hand squeezed mine tight and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, baby."

Despite how uncomfortable the chairs and couches were, I managed to fall asleep. I think it was a testament to how worn down I was after so many weeks of going, going, going. When I woke up, it was just me and Momma in the room. She sat there looking at me.

"Hey, Momma, sorry. Any news?" I asked as I sat up and rubbed my face.

She shook her head. "You look like hell, Jasper."

"Momma, it's not like I've had a chance to shower or anything."

"I'm not talking 'bout that. You're too thin and you look exhausted. You're not taking care of yourself," she admonished.

"I am! I swear," I floundered, "It's just, I've been real busy with this show and all."

"Sure, Jasper, the show," Rose muttered as she walked back in.

"Jasper?" Momma looked at me with that _look_.

I glared at Rose.

When I didn't say anything, she looked at Rose. "What's going on?"

"Umm, nothing, Momma. Just that Jasper is uh, kind of umm, a social butterfly."

I dropped my head to my hands.

"Jasper Whitlock Hale, are you some kind of," her voice dropped to a whisper, "Manwhore?"

Looking at Rose with a stare that promised retribution I said, "Thanks, Rose, just because you're practically living with Emmett doesn't mean we all have to be happily paired off!"

Rose's eyes got real big and I realized my slip. I mouthed a silent _oh shit_ to her.

"Rosalie Lillian Hale! Who on God's green earth is Emmett and why are you living with him?"

The room erupted into argument, each of us shouting at the other, Rose and I in each other's faces, while Momma berated us both. A loud cough silenced us, and we looked up to see Daddy's doctor standing in the doorway. Momma grabbed our hands, argument seemingly forgotten, as we awaited his prognosis.

"He's awake," the doctor told us. Before he let us go in, he filled us in on Daddy's condition. In short though, Daddy was gonna be just fine. As we walked out into the hallway, Momma pulled me close and whispered, "Don't you think I'm forgetting about you and this running around business."

Rose looked at us and giggled. "Manwhore, Momma? Really? What have you been watching on TV?"

Her eyes turned to spear Rose. "I also won't be forgetting about . . . Emmett, is it?"

It was my turn to laugh.

All talk of Emmett and manwhores disappeared as soon as we laid eyes on Daddy. He looked pale, and it was scary as hell to see all the tubes and wires attached to him. But when he opened his eyes and saw Momma, the smile on his face told me he was going to be just fine. He just about lit up at the sight of her, and although he said it was silly that Rose and I had flown out, I could tell Daddy was still happy to see us.

After a little while, Rose and I headed home to shower and rest, both of us feeling better for having seen that Daddy was awake and alright. I stepped into my old room, toweling my hair dry and reached into my bag to change clothes. Just as I grabbed them, my phone rang.

It was Edward.

"Jasper?"

"Hey there, _chère_."

"I just got your message." I looked at the clock and saw that it was eleven a.m. back home. "What happened?"

Edward and I talked for a while after I told him about the shooting and Daddy's prognosis. He was relieved to hear that my dad was going to be okay, and asked if there was anything he could do back home to help out, but there wasn't. I wouldn't have admitted it then, but it was comforting to hear just to hear his voice, to hear the concern there.

I tried not to think about why I couldn't reach him the night before, or why he didn't get my message until so late that morning.


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: *gasp* Yes, I know it's been a ridiculously, inexcusable length of time between updates. I can only apologize to you and hope you're still along for the ride._

_It has been a rough year and apparently my muse prefers to vacation when my life is upside down._

_Thanks as always to **chicklette** for her beta brain. I hope it's been worth the wait.  
_

* * *

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" I responded, smiling when Alice threw me an irritated look.

"I asked if you've heard from the director about your piece, but clearly you're on a different planet right now."

I snorted. "No, just daydreaming a bit. Yes, I heard from him. He's going to let me know next week."

"Well, normally I'd ask if you were daydreaming about Jasper, but since it wasn't him I saw you with last night . . ." she trailed off, her face set and dark.

Choking on my coffee, I sputtered, "Last night?"

"Yes. Last night. I saw you leaving _Aro's_ with someone else. Dark hair, pretty . . . is this ringing any bells?"

"I was on a date."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date."

"But what about Jasper?"

"What about him, Alice?" I asked, a little too sharply perhaps. Rubbing my forehead, I took a breath. "Jasper and I are not exclusive. You, Riley, Jake . . . all of you have been warning me about Jasper, warning me not to get my heart trampled on. So, I'm doing just that, alright? I'm not spending my time waiting on him."

"Edward, I . . ." Alice shook her head. "It's just, that's not like you."

"You know, I really wish everyone would stop telling me who they _think _I am," I snapped. "Who I date or not, hell who I _fuck_ is really not anyone's business, especially yours Alice.

Seeing Alice's stunned face, I tried to rein in my anger a bit. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you guys all mean well, but I'm a grown man perfectly capable of deciding how to spend my time and with whom. If I want your opinions on it I'll ask, okay?"

"Fine," she replied, but her lips were pressed together in a thin, angry line.

Changing the subject I asked, "Are you going to Jasper's show next week?"

Alice rolled her eyes, "Of course I am. Plus, Jasper said the gallery owner may know someone who'd want to buy some of my pieces."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but that's all I know. I think he doesn't want to get my hopes up or something."

Alice and I chatted for a few more minutes then parted ways when we left the coffee shop. Mulling over our conversation, I grew agitated again at her interference in my life. My friends and my sister were wonderful, and I loved them dearly, but at some point they put me on a pedestal, boxed me into an image of someone that wasn't really me.

In fairness, I'd spent much of my adult life pretending to be someone I wasn't, but that didn't mean I hadn't fantasized, hadn't _wanted_ to try things, experiment, sleep with more than one or two guys. It wasn't that I planned to become like Jake—a different guy on my arm or in my bed every night, but I didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to look back on my life when I was older and think _why didn't I do that when I had the chance?_

Also, I _had_ been dating, that wasn't a lie. Since coming out to Tanya, she'd introduced me to at least three different men. It was one of them that Alice had seen me with, on our third date.

He was lovely and utterly different from Jasper, yet appealing and attractive and I could see myself falling for him. He was also not into playing the field, wanting to settle down eventually. I was honest with him and told him that I was dating other people, and while he hoped for a monogamous relationship eventually, he understood that it was still too early to consider that.

And monogamy _was_ something I wanted some day. I wanted to settle down, have a life with someone, maybe have a family. That hadn't changed just because I'd come out, nor had it changed just because I was exploring this new world that had opened up to me. I just had a new path to travel on my way to my happily ever after.

Jasper and I had something special, I knew that. It was something that I hoped would become more someday, but I wasn't naïve. My dick and my ass were not magical beings that could make him forget all of his other lovers, and I understood that he wasn't yet emotionally prepared for such a drastic shift in his life either. It was simply a waiting game: would I tire of my experimental phase before he was ready to commit? That was the ultimate question and I still didn't have an answer.

Thinking about the conversation with Alice made me frustrated and angry. I found myself heading to Jasper's loft. I was halfway up the stairs before I realized that there was no telling what I would find when I got there. Since that first time I'd waited for him, I'd never shown up unannounced but I wanted to see him. I'd missed him while he was home visiting his father. Girding my courage, I finished the climb. For all I knew he was sleeping, or painting, hell he could have been in the shower.

What I didn't expect, was to find a beautiful Latina woman grabbing me by the shoulders when the door opened and exclaiming, "You must be Edward!" She dragged me into the loft. "Jasper, he's even more beautiful in person! _Que precioso_."

It was awkward.

Jasper was sprawled across his couch, his torso bare and his feet in the lap of a tall, handsome man who was rubbing them. "Hey, _chère_," he drawled, then moaned as the man dug his thumbs into Jasper's instep.

The man chuckled low and dirty, and I realized just how intimate the scene was. My face burned with embarrassment when it hit me that the couple was from several of Jasper's paintings.

"Hey, Jasper. I, uh, sorry, didn't realize you have company. I'll just go," I sputtered out and turned to leave.

As I walked back to the door, I heard Maria speaking rapidly in Spanish but I didn't understand anything she said. Just as I reached for the handle, a hand slammed against the door preventing me from opening it. Jasper's breath was hot and moist across my neck.

"Where do you think you're running off to?" he whispered next to my ear.

"Y . . . you have company," I stuttered. "I didn't want to intrude."

An involuntary shudder ran through me as his nose skimmed behind my ear and down the side of my neck. His left hand gripped my hip and he pressed against me. I could feel his heartbeat against my back and the beginning of his erection against my ass.

"You're only intruding if you're not wanted. Believe me, _chère_, you are very much wanted." He punctuated his words with a slow grind against my ass.

My hand fell from the door handle and reached back to grab Jasper's hair. Twisting my head, I pulled him down for a kiss, clumsy and messy because of the angle, but hot and demanding nevertheless.

"Well, now that's a picture," drawled a deep male voice.

Jasper chuckled against my mouth before I ducked down in embarrassment. He pulled me around to face the man and said, "Now why you gotta go and spoil the moment, Peter?"

"Oh please, don't stop on my account," Peter replied.

A shiver went through me at his words, at the thought of Peter watching us. Jasper, however, ignored him and proceeded to introduce us. "Edward, this is Peter. Peter, Edward."

As I shook the hand he proffered, I couldn't help but notice how handsome Peter was. He was tall and lean, but despite his slim build he had a _presence_ that was powerful and confident. I could see why Jasper found him attractive, why anyone would.

"A pleasure, Edward. I've heard so much about you."

"All good I hope?" I replied.

The corners of Peter's eyes crinkled as he smiled wide. "Oh, very good. _Very._"

Jasper laughed and it was loaded with implication.

My blush started somewhere around my toes and ended in the tips of my ears. "I walked right into that one," I mumbled.

"C'mon, let me introduce you to Maria," he said as he tugged me by the hand and led me into the loft.

The woman that greeted me at the door came out of Jasper's kitchen with two bottles in her hand. "Tequila?" she asked brightly. "Or vodka?" she continued with a grimace.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Pretty sure you made your preference perfectly clear darling," Peter replied.

"_Si, si, si_," she said with a wave of her hand. "I wasn't asking you. I wanted to know what _Precioso_ wants."

"_That_ is Maria," Jasper stated with snort.

"Uh, tequila's fine?" I responded. "What does _precioso_ mean?" I asked Jasper as we made our way over to her.

Jasper just shook his head, smiled and kept walking.

A couple rounds of tequila shots later, the conversation between the four of us was flowing easily. Peter and Maria were fascinating. They'd met when Maria was studying art for a semester abroad in Spain, and Peter was there putting together a deal for his new business. It was at the _Sagrada Familia_ cathedral in Barcelona; Peter literally knocked over Maria and her easel. He offered to replace it, she demanded dinner and they'd been inseparable ever since.

Peter was a self-made man, with an irascible wit and brilliant mind. Not an artist himself, but he had a keen, discerning eye for beauty. Maria was . . . a force of nature. I couldn't describe her any other way, and her energy was infectious. I could see why Jasper adored them, why they were among his closest friends. What I wasn't entirely sure about was the entire nature of their relationship with Jasper.

That he'd painted them told me they were his lovers, and I knew that there were couples with open marriages, or in polyamorous relationships, but I'd never met them before. I had no practical knowledge of how something like that worked. After a couple more rounds of tequila, I found myself wondering: _who fucked who? Where? How? What were all the permutations? What would it feel like to fuck a woman again?_

That's when I realized I'd had a bit too much to drink. I excused myself and stepped out onto Jasper's fire escape for some fresh air. Leaning on the railing, I looked over the city enjoying the view and letting my head clear a bit.

"You okay, _chère_?"

I turned to find Jasper leaning against the building as he watched me. Nodding, I answered, "Yeah, just clearing my head. I don't think I can keep up with Maria and the tequila."

He chuckled. "Few people can." Pushing off the wall, he came at me, crowding me against the railing. "Next time, I want to lay you out on the table and lick the salt off your throat." He touched the hollow bellow my Adam's apple. "Then I'll pour a little tequila in your belly button and drink from there." His hand slid down to stomach, his finger tracing lazy patterns around my navel.

The muscles of my stomach twitched under his touch, and I could feel my dick getting hard. A small sound, something between a laugh and a moan slipped from my lips.

Jasper smiled. "Like that idea, do you?"

I nodded before leaning forward and kissing him. Gripping my hips he pulled me against him as we kissed, until I realized I was grinding against his leg like a needy teenager. Pulling back, I leaned my forehead against his and tried to catch my breath. I was pleased to see he was in the same state as I was.

He slowly rolled his head back and forth, not breaking contact as he said, "What you do to me, _chère_."

I grabbed his hand. "C'mon. Let's go back inside, we're being rude."

When I reached the window, however, I stopped and felt Jasper stop just behind me. Maria and Peter were spread out on the rug, a very naked tangle of limbs and smooth skin as they kissed and touched each other.

"Oh!"

"Aren't they beautiful?" Jasper whispered.

"I . . . I guess. I don't . . . I mean . . . I haven't . . ." I didn't even know what I was trying to say.

_I haven't watched people make love before?_ It was true to an extent, although the back rooms of clubs were filled with various sex acts one couldn't classify it as making love.

_I don't find women attractive?_ True, but I had managed the act once with a woman, and I could appreciate their soft beauty.

As if sensing my questions, Jasper's hands slid around to my front and slipped under my shirt. His fingertips danced a trail up to and around my nipples, while he ran just the tip of his tongue along the shell of my ear. "It's okay, Edward. They _like_ that we're watching. Look at them."

Jasper's hands slid back down, one holding me at the waist, the other slipping over the bulge at the front of my pants. "That's it. Just watch them. See how they love each other? How he touches her?"

Maria's head was thrown back and her body arched as Peter settled between her thighs. I watched him watch his fingers slide into her, then look up to see her reaction, studying her, enjoying her pleasure, his face a mixture of love and devastating want.

With nimble fingers, Jasper had my pants sliding down past my ass just enough to release my cock, which he gripped in his warm hand. Wrapped around me from behind, I could feel his hard on still trapped in his pants and pressing against my ass. His left arm held me tight to him, and his right hand began to stroke me—long, slow strokes, with a slight twist at the top, exactly as he knew I liked it.

I couldn't take my eyes of Peter and Maria. They'd moved and he was sitting on the couch, his legs spread, and as she crawled over to him, I got a good look at his cock. It was long and thick, curving upwards just a bit. Then Maria was sliding her lips over it, sucking. His hands moved to her hair as he guided her up and down. I could see his lips moving, talking to her, telling her how good she was.

"He tastes _so_ good," Jasper crooned in my ear as he continued to pump me.

I watched in fascination as Peter's cock slid in and out of Maria's mouth, slick and shiny with spit, until he pulled her up and off. Maria lay back down on the rug. Peter lifted one of her legs and slid into her. This time, I could hear her cry of pleasure through the windows.

"Fuck," I whispered as I watched his ass flex and move with each thrust. His back glistened with sweat and his skin shone.

"Beautiful, isn't he? Look at how he fucks her, how he moves. Imagine what it's like to be in between them, what it's like to have him fucking _you_ like that. He wants to, you know. Wants to fuck you deep and hard like that."

I whimpered and could feel my cock thicken in Jasper's hand.

"Would you like that, _chère_? Would you like to feel him fill you? Would you like to be in the middle? Fucking me while he fucks you? Maybe we'd both fuck you, hmm?"

That did it. Jasper's hard cock ground against my ass, and with a hoarse cry I came, splattering the window in front of us. My knees buckled, but Jasper's arm around my waist held me. His right hand disappeared, but a moment later I heard the distinctive sound of skin on skin, and then I felt his warm release on my ass.

Jasper rested his forehead between my shoulder blades, and I could feel him panting, the moist heat of his breath seeping through my shirt. After a minute, he straightened up and let go of my waist, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. He tugged my shirt up, and I compliantly raised my arms until he pulled it up and off of me, before he used it to clean both of us off.

I turned and wrinkled my nose at him. "Really?"

He laughed and kissed me. "Well, what else would you suggest I use?" He was right. There was nothing else on the fire escape with us.

"Point."

I turned and looked inside. Maria and Peter were still at it.

"They really are beautiful," I told him.

"They say the same about you."

Blushing, I said nothing.

"I meant what I said before. They do want you, want us."

Shaking my head I began, "Jasper, I don't k—"

His finger pressed against my lips, silencing me. "Shhh, I just wanted you to know. You don't have to do anything."

Pulling me back into his loft, Jasper walked us right past Peter and Maria on our way to his bedroom. I couldn't help but glance over at them once more, and my eyes met Peter's as he made love to his wife. He continued to thrust into her, while pinioning me with his gaze. Heat furled low in my belly at his look and I swear I saw a smile begin to curl the corner of his mouth. Jasper tugged my hand again and I stumbled after him, breaking Peter's gaze. When I looked back, his full attention was on Maria once again.

Sometime later Jasper and I lay tangled in the sheets of his bed. The remnants of a meal sat on a plate on the floor, and I was downing a bottle of water. I felt Jasper's eyes on me.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"You're pretty to look at."

"I'm not pretty."

Jasper laughed. "Oh yes, _chère_. Yes you are."

"Whatever."

Then he was quiet as he lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling in lazy o's. He broke the silence after a couple of minutes. "You're coming to the show, right?"

It was the first time I'd ever heard Jasper sound unsure about anything. It was endearing, and I thrilled at the idea that he was worried I wouldn't be there.

"Well," I began. "I don't know. You see . . ."

The look on his face was so surprised, so hurt, that I couldn't continue.

"Hey, hey, I'm kidding," I said. "Of course I'm coming." I had no intention of missing it, and had even turned down another offer of plans for that night.

Jasper's face shuttered, hiding the pain. He plastered on a smile, but for that slim fragment of time I saw beneath the bravado, beneath the devil-may-care, insouciant façade Jasper presented. I rolled over and straddled him, taking the cigarette from his mouth and stubbing it out, before kissing him.

Under the taste of ash were hints of cheese and crackers, apples, honey and wine. It was an apology and reassurance, a search and a promise, all rolled into one.

"What was that for?" he asked when I broke off.

"I really was joking, Jasper. I didn't mean to upset you."

Gripping my hips, he rolled his under me. "I wasn't upset, _chère_."

"Liar," I whispered as his hands slid around to cup my ass, a finger dipping in to tease me.

Jasper sat up and began kissing my neck, my chest, until he fastened his teeth on my nipple and bit lightly. "No more talking," he growled, just before latching on to the other nipple. As if to emphasize the point, he slid two of his fingers into my mouth, moving them in and out in time to the grinding of his hips beneath me.

"J . . . Jas . . ." I panted when he removed them, but ended on a low groan as he reached behind and pressed them into me.

"Like that, baby?"

"Fuck," was the only intelligible thing I managed to utter.

"Plan to."

He was doing everything he could to distract me and I knew it, knew I shouldn't have let him, should have made him talk instead, but as distractions went, he was pretty convincing.

So I ignored that voice in my head and let him lead. I ignored it and let him press me down on the bed, let him show me with his body what he couldn't with his words. Jasper pushed into me with practiced ease and soon that voice in my head stopped whispering _talk, talk, talk_, and began demanding,_ more, more, more._

And Jasper gave it to me.

His hand on the back of my neck held me down as he fucked me into the mattress with long, steady strokes.

His fingers on my hips left bruises when he pulled me up on my knees and slammed into me once more.

His arms wrapped around me as he pulled me back and into his lap, his breath on my neck as he whispered, "Feel so good, _chère_."

His lips ghosting over my skin as he kissed my neck, back, shoulders, anything he could reach. "Too good, too perfect. Fuck."

Long fingers wrapped around my length and stroked as we moved together, Jasper so deep inside me, so _right_.

"Come for me, _chère_. Please, I can't . . . I . . ." His hips stuttered and he came with a sobbed, "Edward." I could feel him shudder behind me as he clung tight to me, his face buried in my neck. His hand still wrapped around my cock gave an involuntary squeeze and that was all it took before I came as well, a surprised, strangled cry escaping me.

We remained like that for a minute, Jasper trembling behind me like a horse that's been ridden hard, until we had to move and collapsed on the bed. I could feel him next to me, feel his hard and fast breathing turn slow and steady, feel him try to regain his equilibrium, because despite not wanting to _talk_ about his feelings, Jasper had just revealed a plethora.

Yet no matter how much I'd wanted to talk to him before, and how much I wanted to make him talk to me about it then, I couldn't form the words, couldn't string a sentence together if my life had depended on it. So I let the moment pass.

That was something we'd both come to regret.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Hi there. If you're reading this then you're still sticking around despite the long breaks between updates. For that I thank you._

_As always, my love and thanks go out to **chicklette_** for her beta brain, honesty, but most of all her friendship.  
_

* * *

The day before my show I was a nervous wreck. I'd spent the better part of the morning with Chelsea finalizing the details of the show, unveiling for her the final pieces I'd only finished that week.

"_Jasper, these are . . . my God, they're gorgeous!"_

It was a series of six paintings of Edward, all capturing different moments of the day. Edward asleep, eating, at the piano, in the throes of passion, his leg showing around the shower curtain, Edward laughing with the sun setting the background.

"_This is like a completely different phase of work for you. I don't know who he is Jasper, but if this is the inspiration you get, you should keep him around."_

I made a point of reminding her that all my lovers inspire me. That interaction was the crux of my work, the energy from which I drew; my lovers were my muses.

_Chelsea shook her head. "It's not just a river in Egypt, Jasper. Tell yourself what you like, but these pieces are on a completely different level from your others."_

Unable to sit still, I headed over to visit with Rose and Emmett. They were still unpacking things, having decided after our trip home to make their living arrangements a bit more official. I helped them for a little while, until Rose finally grabbed a book from my hand and said, "Enough! You've been bouncing around here like a like a terrier on Adderall. I can't take it anymore."

"Is that the thanks I get for helping you out, Rose?" I replied, grabbing the book back.

"Ah, _chère_, I appreciate the help, but your nerves are wearing me thin. Why don't you call up Edward? Go dancing or something, anything, just work off some of that nervous energy, okay?"

I mumbled my reply.

"What was that, dude?" Emmett asked.

"I said that Edward has plans tonight. His friend Riley's birthday or something," I answered while looking at the book in my hand.

"Why don't you just call up one of your other _friends_?" Rose continued, gently taking the book from me.

I looked at her.

"Oh shit," she gasped. "Are you jealous that he's out with his friends?"

"What? No! I'm not! You're right. I'm just gonna go call someone else." I winked and smirked. "Someone who might appreciate all this energy."

"Don't you bullshit me, Jasper. You can bullshit your friends, your lovers, whoever the fuck else, but not me." She grabbed my chin and made me look at her. "If you want to be with Edward, _be_ with Edward."

I jerked my chin away, but before I could respond my phone rang. Grinning at Rose, I answered. A minute later, "I'd love to, Seth. Be there soon."

"Seth huh?"

"Mmmmhm."

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Jesus man, you say it like he's a chocolate cake!"

Picturing Seth's bronzed skin and black hair, I laughed. "More like a really tasty mocha with a touch of cinnamon."

"Out!" Rose pointed toward the door. "Just out! Men," she huffed as she walked away.

Two hours later I was grinding against Seth on the dance floor, his back sweat-stuck to my front, our shirts long gone. My hand was splayed out over his stomach, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his pants, grazing the head of his cock, teasing.

"You're wet," I whisper-yelled in his ear.

"F-fuck," he stuttered out, his hips jerking. He spun around and kissed me, his hips not stopping their bump and grind, then he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the back of the club, which was perfect for me. I didn't feel like taking him back to my place. I needed a quickie; needed to fuck some of the frenetic energy out of my system before my show, not a long night of debauchery.

We passed through the curtain and down the hallway, passing men variously kissing, fucking and sucking, until he found an unoccupied section of wall. Seth leaned against it and pulled me to him for another kiss, before pushing down on my shoulders.

"Want your mouth, want . . . want," he chanted as I slid to my knees and he fumbled with his pants. As soon as his dick was free, he twisted his fingers into my hair and pulled me forward.

"Yes," he hissed out when I took the tip between my lips.

"Oh god," he moaned when I sucked and licked and tasted him.

"Jesusfuckshit," he screamed as I slid all the way down the length of him.

I sucked my way back up, then grinned at him. "Like that do you?"

"Stop talking."

After a few pumps of his length, I got down to business, sucking and licking him until he tightened the fingers grabbing my head and came with a hoarse shout. I suckled him for a moment, pulled one of his pant legs all the way off, then stood.

I kissed him hard, then whispered in his ear. "My turn."

It didn't take much to prepare him, and a minute later I had his leg hitched up over my arm as I took him against the wall. I fucked into him with short, hard thrusts, enjoying the little whimpers and moans he made, the feel of his fingers digging into my arms. I wrapped my free hand around his half-hard cock.

"Christ, Jasper, I don't know if I can . . ."

His voice trailed off on a hard thrust, replaced with a keening whine and he thickened in my hand. I grinned and tried to keep hitting that spot, but couldn't keep up the angle for too long.

Seth didn't seem to mind.

He took over stroking himself as I lifted his other leg and slammed into him harder, chasing my own still elusive orgasm. I watched Seth, watched his face as he came again, watched his dark eyes widen then slide shut, felt him clamp down on me, but when my eyes shut at the sensation, all I saw were green eyes, Edward's eyes, and I came in sudden, hot rush.

_Well fuck_. I thought. _That's new_.

And unwelcome.

I tried to shake it off as Seth and I put ourselves to rights. The bathroom lights were harsh compared to the dim hallway, but the place still smelled and sounded like sex. I threw away the condom, washed my hands and splashed water over my head.

"You okay?" Seth asked.

I smiled my nothin'-but-trouble smile, as Momma called it, crowded Seth up against the counter, and answered, "Sure, why wouldn't I be?" before stealing a kiss and shutting him up.

We danced a bit longer, but I blamed the next day's show for my early exit. Seth seemed a bit surprised, but didn't say word, just kissed me goodbye and danced back into the crowd.

Sleep eluded me most of the night. I tossed and turned, until falling into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of green eyes and a too slim build, black hair and pale skin; where Seth danced and laughed, then spoke in Edward's voice, and where dexterous, piano playing fingers slipped out of my grasp. Jerking awake I realized I'd finally managed to pass out and slept into the early afternoon.

Chelsea was calm and organized when I arrived. She took one look at me, led me to the bar and had the bartender pour me a drink. "You look like you could use this, luv."

"Thanks," I said as I took the shot and signaled the guy for another. "Where's your partner in crime? I thought he'd be here."

"Barking up the wrong tree, Jasper."

"Can't blame a man for trying." Not that I really was. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested.

She threw her head back and laughed. "No, I suppose not. Alec, may not make it tonight. He had to fly home for a few days and his flight was delayed."

Although time had seemed to stretch over the last few days, suddenly it sped up and before I knew it people were arriving. Rose and Emmett were among the first, and she had tears in her eyes when she hugged me.

"I'm so proud of you."

When they got to the images of Edward, Rose gasped and I heard Emmett take a deep breath.

"Wow, man. Just . . . I didn't . . . I mean . . ."

"Nice, Em. Thanks."

He clapped his hands on my shoulders, big forge-strengthened hands, and I could feel the weight of his words through them. "Those are amazing, Jasper. I don't think I really understood until now just how good you could be, how good you are, when properly inspired. Don't fuck it up, okay?"

Before I could answer, there was a tug at my elbow and Chelsea was leading me away to introduce me to someone. The next thirty minutes or so was a whirlwind of introductions and glad handing, until I heard murmurs and a steady susurration of whispers.

I looked up and saw Edward making his blushing way over to me, Alice in tow. Something in me coiled up tight inside at the sight of him. It was so like the first time we met with Edward tugging at the clothes Alice no doubt forced him to wear, and his blush searing his pale skin. Pale skin I itched to get my fingers on.

"_Chère_, you made it."

A softly whispered, _that's him_, followed Edward to me.

"I can't believe you, Jasper! That's . . . that's me!" he said in a low voice. I would have worried that he was upset, but the look in his face wasn't anger, it was wonder. "I can't . . .the way you make me look," he said.

"I drew what I saw," I told him and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

A murmured _aw_ caused Edward to break the kiss and duck his head down, his blush renewed and flaming.

"And they all know!" he practically squeaked.

Alice laughed behind him. "Get over it big brother! If the music thing doesn't pan out, you could pose naked for all the students at the school."

"Shut it, Alice."

"Hey Ali," I said, still laughing at Edward's discomfiture and giving her a hug.

We chatted for a minute, before a loud, "_Precioso!_" interrupted. Edward was engulfed by Maria. I got a cursory hug and kiss before she was dragging him off to meet so-and-so, leaving Peter, Alice and I standing there laughing.

The evening continued as I mingled, Chelsea shilled my work, and Maria kept Edward annoyingly out of reach. I was watching him over the rim of my wine glass, watching the way some suit kept talking to him, knowing that it was exactly the type of person Edward couldn't stand, but was too polite to brush off, and I was again taken back to the night we met. To the way he put up with everyone around him, the way he looked at my work, and the way he'd watched me. I remembered the way I'd taken him in the supply closet, the way I first experienced his abandon and passion.

I got achingly, desperately hard.

Turning to Chelsea and . . . whoever it was we were talking to, I excused myself to use the restroom. Taking the long way around, I walked over to Edward, Maria and The Suit, and interrupted with a polite, "Would you mind terribly if I stole Edward here for a moment?" Before they could answer, I was dragging him away.

"God thank you, Jasper. He was driving me crazy! I really appreciate Maria trying to help me with my music, but I felt like he was fucking me in his head the entire time we were talking."

Shepherding Edward ahead of me, I found the door to Chelsea's office and pushed him through.

"Jasper, what—"

I cut him off as I shoved him against the door and kissed him breathless.

"Jesus, Jas—"

"Fuck, Edward, you just . . . you're so . . . I . . .I want you . . . now, fuck," I muttered as I pulled at his shirt and started unbuttoning his pants.

"Jasper! We can't! Not here!"

"Why not?" I whispered against his throat, nipping at his jaw. "Just like the first time. Everyone out there wondering where we disappeared to, and you . . . you were a fucking revelation," I said as I slid my hand down and squeezed his cock.

"Jasper."

It was no more than a whisper, but it was permission and passion and it was color and I wanted more.

"Say it again," I demanded as I unzipped his fly and his pants fell down around his ankles.

"Jasper. Jasper. Jasper."

It was a litany of breathless muttering, punctuated by a keening whimper when I gripped us both together and began to jack us. His hips pumped as he fucked into my hand, the slide of his cock slick against mine as our mingled spit and pre-come coated them.

I mashed our mouths together as he came, my name still on his lips and in my mouth, hot and sweet. It was seconds later that I followed him, coating my hand with our combined release. Edward grabbed my hand, his tongue darting out and swiping across my palm, slipping over my fingers, cleaning it.

When he finished, I kissed him again, enjoying our taste. We kissed slow and sweet, until our hearts were beating at normal rhythm.

"Jesus, Jasper. I can't believe we just did that," he said with a snort, which turned into a full blown laugh. We both began to laugh, even as we pulled up our pants and set ourselves to rights. We were still laughing as he tried to smooth my hair where he pulled it askew. Still laughing when I tried to pull his collar up a bit to hide the red burn on his neck from my stubble, and we were laughing still when we stumbled out of Chelsea's office.

"I'm sorry I'm late, luv! I'll just put my things in your of—"

Still laughing as we ran into Alec, pulling a small suitcase behind him.

"Edward?" he said, taking in the sight, the measure, and the unmistakable obviousness of us.

"Alec? What are you doing here?" Then, as if stung, Edward shook my hand off his arm.

Surprised, I looked at him, saw the panic in his eyes and made one and one add up to two. I wasn't sure I liked the result.

"I see you made your flight," I said to Alec.

Turning to me, Edward asked, "You two know each other?"

"We've met. He's Chelsea's best friend."

"Looks like the show is going . . . well," Alec replied.

Alec was handling the situation with more aplomb than most people probably would, certainly better than Edward was handling it.

"Jasper's show," Edward said. "This is the show you wanted to bring me to? Jasper's show," he repeated.

"How did you not make the connection?" I asked him.

"Cee Cee, he calls her. Cee Cee!" Edward's voice was a bit hysterical. "Cee Cee is not Chelsea!" he continued before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "This is not happening."

"Edward—" He cut me off and stepped away from me as I reached out to him.

"Alec, I'm sorry." Edward took a step toward Alec. "I just—"

"Hey, you told me you were seeing someone else," Alec replied.

"Still, I . . . I . . . I gotta get out of here. Sorry," he whispered and then bolted.

"Edward!" Both Alec and I called after him, but he didn't turn and he didn't stop.

"So, your 'sweet boy?'" I asked Alec, although I was still looking to where Edward had disappeared.

"He is. He's very sweet in fact." Alec turned to me. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Jasper, there you are!" Chelsea broke in to our conversation, grabbed me by the hand and began to drag me back out into the gallery. She turned to Alec. "You coming luv?"

"I'll be out in a few, Cee Cee. Just need a moment."

Chelsea looked back and forth between us. "What's going on? Jasper, where's Edward?"

"He, uh . . ."

She looked between us again. "You know what? We don't have time for this right now, but I will be getting some answers soon."

I let her drag me back out and put on my game face. Alice found me and in a harsh whisper asked, "What did you do?"

"Wasn't me this time, _chère._" But I moved on with Chelsea to talk to a potential buyer.

The evening was a success, financially and professionally at any rate. Personally, it felt hollow. Edward was entitled to be with whoever he wanted, that I couldn't begrudge him, but Alec . . . he was the kind of guy you brought home to your parents—successful, good looking, polite, educated and, if Chelsea's stories were true, a genuinely wonderful person. Alec was exactly the right kind of guy for Edward, the kind of guy who would give him what he wanted.

Thinking about them together left an itch under my skin; one I didn't want to think about.

Turned out I didn't need to for long.

I didn't see Alec again that night, but Edward . . . Edward showed up at my loft not long after Maria, Peter, and I returned. We'd just opened a bottle of wine when he arrived, and Maria and I were dancing. He looked a little wild, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright, his hair standing on end.

Edward walked over to me, grabbed my glass of wine and swallowed the contents in one go, then turned to Peter and started dancing with him. I'd seen Edward dance with another man before, the night at the club when he was with Riley, but this was different. Then, although I'd denied it, I was jealous; jealous of the history and connection between Edward and Riley, and the fact that Riley was obviously in love with Edward. With Peter, however, there was only a hint, a mild twinge of jealousy; one small moment where I wanted to pull Edward into my arms and away from Peter's. It was fleeting—morphing instead into something hungry and wanting, something I wanted a part of, instead of something I wanted to take apart. I watched Peter's hands settle on Edward's hips and the sensuous rhythm of their movements, and enjoyed the allure of them together.

The music was slow and sensual, the air was heady with smoke and our bodies were loose with wine and happiness. We danced like that for a long time—slow, hot, and slick, until we were all writhing together, hands touching and pressing, lips searching and wet. As Edward's clothes began to vanish, and Peter's voice began to whisper filthy things, I spared a moment to wonder why Edward was suddenly willing to go with it, but then there was a mouth on mine and fingers on my cock and I didn't think of much else for a good while.

Hours later, as the sun began to pink the sky, I opened my eyes to see Edward getting dressed. He turned with his shoes still in his hand, shirt hanging open.

"Leaving so soon," I whispered, loath to wake Peter and Maria.

Leaning down, Edward kissed me. It was tender and sweet.

It was also goodbye.

"Thank you, Jasper."

"Edward—"

He placed two fingers over my lips. "Shhh. It's okay." His fingers traced my lips, feathered across my cheeks. "I don't regret anything. It's been amazing. _You_ are amazing. But I need more."

Then Edward Cullen kissed me again and walked out of my life.

Weeks later, I was ashamed to admit that I'd been having an epic sulk about it. I was alternately angry with Edward for not being willing to live life on my terms, and understanding of his needs and wishing him the best. I missed him, but there was no way I could give up my life, my work and how I was inspired to it, for him.

So, I pulled up my big boy pants and tried to dive back into my life. I worked on new pieces, and met with buyers that Chelsea insisted I see, and although she never once mentioned Alec, he was always absent when I was at the gallery. I also went out and partied, spending time with Seth and Maggie, Maria and Peter . . . and Paul, Garrett, Kim, Sam and Emily, Erik, Carlisle, Leah . . . well, the list was long. I figured that eventually Edward would get worked out of my system.

Maria? She had other ideas, and she made sure I heard them.

"_Mira, coño_! Don't you pretend with me! Do you hear me, Jasper?"

"Enough, Maria. I don't want to talk about Edward. We were just . . . whatever it was that we were, okay? It's over. Edward doesn't want me, doesn't want _this_."

She threw her hands up in the air. "_Oyeme, y oyeme bien_. You are stupid in love with _Precioso_, and you are behaving like a . . ." and she trailed off into a stream of expletives in Spanish that I couldn't follow.

I walked out of the room.

"Don't you walk away from me, Jasper!"

"There's nothing left to say, Maria!"

"Oh, there's plenty to left to say, Jasper, you just don't want to listen!"

"What do you want? You want to hear me say I love him? Fine. I do. You're right, I fucking love him okay?" I shouted. "But it doesn't matter, because this life isn't for him."

"So?"

"What do you mean, _so_? This is how my life is. I don't _do_ monogamy, Maria."

"So, you start doing it."

I laughed at her. "What? Like you and Peter?" I snorted.

"_Hijo de la puta!_ You are such an idiot sometimes, Jasper. Peter and I? What we have? It works because it's something we both enjoy, but if either of us stopped enjoying it? It would be over, finished, because nothing, no one, not even you, comes between us. It is always me and Peter first. What we have works because I _enjoy_ watching Peter take his pleasure and he enjoys watching me, but I would no longer enjoy fucking you if Peter didn't enjoy being a part of that. _Entiende?_"

"So you're saying that if tomorrow Peter asked you to stop, to be monogamous, you would?"

"In a heartbeat, _mijo_."

I stared at her for a minute, stunned. "But . . ."

"Jasper, what Peter and I have is different, yes? Not everyone can live like this, not everyone even wants to try, but at the core of it, the heart, it's me and Peter. We're the most important part. The rest? It's icing on the cake."

"Fine, but this is how I do my work. My art is based on my life. You know this, better than anybody!"

"Really? So, how's that been working out for you?" Maria walked over to several partially completed canvases. "This?" She pointed at one. "This is shit. You know it. I know it. It's why you haven't finished it. And this one? It may be finished, but it doesn't hold a candle to what you used to do. It doesn't hold a candle to what you did when you were with him."

Maria was fighting dirty, hitting low, and although I was pissed off and argued with her—spent the next few months arguing with her in fact—it turned out that she was right.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I know it still took a while to post the next chapter, but hey! Three months beats several, right?_

_As always, my undying love and gratitude to **chicklette_** for, well, everything.  
_

_Spank me! I almost forgot to thank **Fr333bird** and **ann****etteinoz** for their Brit picking!  
_

* * *

I heard both Alec and Jasper calling after me, but couldn't bring myself to stop. What had I been thinking? How stupid could I have been not to realize the connection between Alec and Chelsea and Jasper? I'd been so fixated on Jasper that I hadn't given Alec and what he'd told me enough attention, at least not enough for my brain to realize that Chelsea and Cee Cee were one and the same.

Wandering aimlessly, I thought about Jasper and Alec. I felt bad for running out like I had; that my freak out may have ruined Jasper's night. The more I thought, the more stupid I felt. I hadn't done anything wrong. Alec and I weren't exclusive. Hell, even _he _pointed that out. At worst the situation was very awkward. I did wonder, however, how Jasper did it. There had been nothing uncomfortable in the time I spent with him, Peter, and Maria. In fact, other than my momentary surprise at catching Peter and Maria having sex, our evening together had been lovely.

_They_ were lovely, Peter and Maria. The way Maria had taken me under her wing and introduced me to people at Jasper's show was sweet, and unlike some of the people I'd met there, she was genuine.

I ducked into a bar and ordered a drink. Then another. My phone rang, but when I saw it was Alice, I hit ignore. As I downed my shot, _I'm Too Sexy_, began to blare out of my phone. I grimaced as the alcohol burned its way down, and then shrugged at the guy in leather two seats over who was staring.

"Seriously, Jake? Right Said Fred? When did you even get a hold of my phone?"

"That's what you wanna talk about right now? Where are you? Alice is frantic."

"Christ, you'd think I'm a child the way she acts. I'm fine. Tell her I'm fine. I just needed some air, okay?"

"Edward, c'mon man, where are you? I'll come get you."

"I don't need anyone to come and get me," I hissed into the phone. "I just . . . shit, Jake, you ever had two of your uh 'dates' run into each other?"

Silence.

"Jake?"

A noise, almost like laughter.

"Jake?"

"I'm sorry, Edward, but umm…"

Definite laughter.

"Fuck you, Jake. I'm hanging up now."

"No! No, Edward. Seriously, I'm sorry, but that . . . that's awkward as fuck."

"Tell me about it."

"So, Jasper and?"

"Alec."

"Alec?"

"Yes, Alec. Chelsea's best friend, Alec. Chelsea whose gallery Jasper's show is at tonight's, Alec. Chelsea who . . . fuck, you don't think she'd take this out on Jasper, do you?"

"Jesus, Edward, could you make your life a little more complicated?"

"I didn't do it on purpose! I had no idea Alec knew Chelsea."

"How did they react?"

So I told Jake what happened, well, not in graphic detail, but he got the gist of the situation.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, Edward, but you need to go apologize to Jasper for running out on him."

I stared at my phone. "Hello? I thought I was talking to Jake, but that's not possible because someone who sounds a lot like him just told me to go make nice to Jasper."

"Don't remind me about all the reasons I don't like the guy, okay? You're the one who told me how important tonight was to him and how much he wanted you there—"

"And then I left."

"And then you left."

"I gotta go, Jake."

"Okay."

"Tell Alice to butt out."

"Okay."

"And Jake? Thanks, man."

"Just go already."

I heard him laughing as we hung up, and thought how lucky I was to have such good friends in my life. Hailing a cab, I first rushed back to the gallery, but from the window I could see that everyone had left and Chelsea was orchestrating a clean-up crew. I didn't think it would be right to go in and talk to her just then, so I gave the driver Jasper's address.

Doubt and anxiety wormed their way into my gut as we pulled up to his loft. _Was he angry with me? Hurt? Was he alone? If not, who was he with?_ Still, I owed it to him, to myself, to go talk to him, apologize for leaving like I had. As Alice would have said, it was time to pull up my big boy pants.

I forced myself to stop tugging on my hair, and threw some money at the cabbie. Taking the stairs to Jasper's loft two at a time, I reached the top a little breathless and anxious, but determined. I raised my fist to knock, but decided to risk it and try the handle instead. It turned easily, and I rushed in.

Jasper was dancing with Maria, a glass of wine in his hand. I was happy to see that he was with Peter and Maria and not some stranger, and when the look of surprise on his face morphed into a large, genuine smile, I knew I'd made the right decision. Grabbing his glass of wine, I downed it in one go and turned to dance with Peter.

Peter was a very good dancer.

It felt good in his arms. _I_ felt good in his arms, our bodies pressed together. I looked over at Jasper and mouthed, _I'm sorry. _Jasper danced over and whispered, "Don't worry about it none, _chère_. Just look out for this one, he wants in your pants."

I laughed and kept dancing with Peter, but after a little while Jasper's teasing about how Peter wanted me became very apparent. I'm not sure when I made the conscious decision to let the cards fall where they may, but it didn't take long before Peter's mouth was on mine and I realized that I wanted him, them, all of it.

Peter's hands were on my ass, pulling me closer as we kissed, never breaking rhythm. Then Jasper and Maria were there too, arms around us, mouths roaming, now kissing me, now kissing Peter. We all danced that way for a while, loose and sensual, and when I found myself pressed between Jasper and Peter as they kissed, any inhibitions I still had were swept away.

It wouldn't be until later that I parsed out the events of that night; that I would walk down the street with my hand over my mouth in wonder at my brazenness, as things replayed themselves in my mind. In the moment, all I knew was the incredible pleasure and uninhibited sensuality I experienced.

As our clothes fell away, our hands and mouths began to explore each other. I would have thought Maria being there would have made things awkward—it had been so long since I'd been with a woman—but she was intuitive and, I realized much later, very careful with me. Although she and I kissed a bit, touched and held each other, it never went further than that.

Tangled on the floor, I came for the first time that night with Jasper's mouth on me and Peter's cock heavy on my tongue. I could hear Maria fall apart for Peter, while she made Jasper hum and gasp around my cock. After, there were no uncomfortable, stilted conversations, just a tangle of limbs and skin on skin, kisses and touching.

I tasted myself on Jasper's lips, and felt my body come alive as he whispered in my ear, telling me all the things he wanted to do to me and with me. Then Peter's hands were on me too, and I _wanted_. He worked me open while Jasper and I kissed, and it was so much sensation. Peter's fingers in me and Jasper's on me, and our mouths working together, wet and hot.

Then Jasper was pulling back and stroking my face. "I want you, Edward. Want you to fuck me while Peter's fucking you."

Peter's fingers slid out of me and I turned to see him kissing Maria, and then silently ask her permission. She smiled at me and whispered something to him. He kissed her deep, and then draped himself over my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Let's get our boy ready for you, hmm?"

And we did together, Peter and me. It was one of the most erotic things I'd seen, both of our fingers sliding in and out of Jasper, our mouths taking turns licking and sucking his cock, then kissing over the top of it. I slid down lower and licked where he was open around both of us. Heard Peter grunt and then mutter, "So fucking hot."

A soft moan from nearby made me look up and I saw Maria watching us from the chair Jasper sat in the night he sketched me sleeping. One of her legs was splayed over the arm of the chair and she was touching herself while she watched us. I may not have been attracted to her sexually, but I could appreciate how beautiful she looked just then, flushed and aroused and entranced by us.

Jasper was writhing and moaning, the fingers of one hand tangled in my hair. "Edward, fuck, oh fuck, please."

I slid up his body and kissed him again. A few moments later I was pressing into him. It had been a while since I'd topped someone, and it took me several very long seconds to adjust and not come the instant I bottomed out. I dropped my head into the crook of Jasper's neck and panted.

Jasper uttered a strangled, "Edward!"

Glancing back up at him, I saw that he was utterly wrecked.

"Please, move . . . God," he whined and tried to roll his hips.

Pulling my hips back a little and then pushing forward, I slowly began to fuck him. It was incredible. Peter wrapped himself around me again and whispered in my ear, "Look at him. Look how good you're making him feel. God, the two of you are so beautiful together."

Then Peter was kissing my neck and down my back, his hands skimmed my ass and pulled me open, fingers skittering over my opening and sliding in one more time.

"You ready for me, baby?"

I whimpered as he pushed two fingers in and fucked me slowly with them, pushing my hips into Jasper.

"Yeah, you're ready."

Peter's hand on my back pressed me down onto Jasper, who carded his fingers through my hair and whispered, "Fuck, _chère_," before kissing me. My groans as Peter slid into me were swallowed by Jasper, his tongue moving in and out of my mouth just as Peter began to move in and out of me.

The feeling of being fucked and fucking was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Peter was fucking us, both of us, each of his forward thrusts pushing me into Jasper and each retreat sending my hips back, seeking. I'd always imagined that I'd be the one doing the work in the middle, fucking into someone and then fucking myself back on someone else, but Peter controlled it all; the pace, the depth, the rhythm.

Over the noise of our breathless fucking, I heard Maria's stuttered, "Oh . . . oh, _dios_!" as she came. I felt her lean against us as she and Peter kissed, and I slid my arms under Jasper's shoulders and held on as Peter continued to fuck us.

"Fuck, Jasper," I whispered against his neck. "I . . . I—"

"Yeah, _chère_, me too. Gonna come . . . gonna . . . ah fffuck!"

Jasper's eyes slid shut and his neck arched back as he came. I felt it wet and warm between us, and as soon as he clenched down on me, I was done and began to come, my sounds muffled against his neck.

"Christ. Shit. Fuck." I heard Peter biting out. He gripped my hips and pulled me back. I slipped out of Jasper and onto Peter's lap, my head lolling back against him. Peter fucked into me once, twice and then stilled, clutching me to him as he came. I could feel Maria's hands stroking us both, brushing my sweaty hair from my forehead, and her voice murmuring soothing sounds.

I was so overwhelmed, I don't even remember who took the condom off me and cleaned us up. I only recall collapsing in a sweaty, sated pile of limbs. Opening my eyes, I realized we'd all fallen asleep. Peter's back was pressed up against mine and Maria was curled into him, while I had an arm slung over Jasper's chest, and a leg between his. I shifted so I could sit up a bit, and Jasper rolled onto his side. It was too warm for more than a sheet, and it shifted as he moved, sliding down off his hips.

With my fingertips I traced the curve of his back and the swell of his ass, resisting the urge to palm it and slip my fingers into the cleft. I leaned over and watched him sleep, enjoying the way it smoothed out his harder edges, made him seem almost boyish. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in and out, slow and steady. Lashes, long and strangely dark for someone so fair, lay against his cheek, adding to the illusion of youth.

It was only as one took in the bigger picture—realized that the puffiness of his lips was from kissing and biting and sucking, and that the scratches along his shoulders were interspersed with tiny purpling bite marks—then, the illusion transformed to one of debauched innocence. It was still an illusion, but one that lived much closer to the truth.

I couldn't deny that I'd fallen in love with Jasper. It was as clear to me in that moment as anything. It was also clear to me that I couldn't stay with him. I didn't regret a single minute of the night before. Being with Jasper in that way, sharing him with Peter and Maria was an incredible experience, but for me it was a one-time thing. As much as I enjoyed it, I wanted Jasper to myself, and that was something I realized he wasn't ready for. It was something he might never be ready for. He might always need Maria and Peter in his life, maybe even others, but I was done.

Sliding out of the bed as carefully as I could, I began to gather my clothes. I'd just gotten my pants on when the first pink shafts of morning light slid over Jasper's body. Stilling, I looked my fill, determined to memorize every inch of skin. Then, I bent to pick up my shoes.

"Leaving so soon?" he whispered.

I closed my eyes and told myself to stay strong, not to succumb to the desire I had to drop everything and crawl back into bed with them. Turning, I looked at him for another moment then bent to kiss him goodbye.

"Thank you, Jasper."

He began to speak, but I quieted him with my fingers on his lips. I needed him to know that I wasn't upset, wasn't ashamed or hurt or disappointed in him. Yes, I was upset, hurt and disappointed, but not in him.

"Shh. It's okay." I took another moment to run my fingers over his cheek, committing the softness there to memory. Then I told him the truth, "I don't regret anything. It's been amazing. _You_ are amazing. But I need more."

I gave him one last kiss and walked out.

The streets were quiet in the dawn, and I took my time wandering. I stopped in one of the several chain coffee shops along the way and bought something hot and a little too sweet. In the cab, when I finally decided to head home, I felt myself blush as I recalled more of what transpired the night before. As the cab pulled up to my house, I wavered for a moment, my hand clenching the door handle, but I took a deep breath and opened the door. Jasper was a closed chapter in my life. My time with him had been amazing, extraordinary and wonderful, but it was time to move on, move forward with someone who could give me what I needed, not just what I wanted.

Still, there was an ache in my chest as I opened my front door.

When I walked in, I found Alice asleep on the couch. Sighing, I grabbed the throw from the other couch and covered her with it. I should have known better. She sat up immediately.

"Edward, you shit! Where were you? I was worried!"

"I told Jake to tell you I was fine."

"Jake. You told Jake? And what? That was supposed to make me feel better?"

I shook my head. "Yes, because I'm an adult and can take care of myself, Alice. Why do we keep having this conversation?"

"Ugh, I hate you right now. I need coffee to reason with you."

She got up and stumbled to my kitchen. I trailed after her because I knew she wouldn't leave it alone, and because I did need to talk about Jasper, to at least tell her it was over. So after she was properly caffeinated, I told her about Jasper and Alec.

"No wonder you ran out. Ugh, awkward," she said.

"Tell me about it, but running out wasn't the answer either." Then I told her about my soul searching, and my decision to go talk to Jasper. I didn't tell her about my night, but I did tell her that I'd said goodbye to him.

She eyed my clothes. The same ones I'd worn the night before. "That was some goodbye," she said with a smirk.

I laughed. "Yeah, it was a long goodbye," I conceded. "But it _was_ goodbye. Jasper is a great guy and . . . and I do love him." Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, "but he is who he is. I don't want to force him to change for me. Hell, I don't think I could. Now I know what I need, as well as what I want, and he can't give it to me."

Alice stood up to give me a hug. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

I shook my head. "Don't be. I'm not. Just . . . I know you're friends with him, and I don't want you to stop being friends with him, but if you could, ummm, not bring him around for a while I'd appreciate it."

"Of course! I wouldn't hurt you like that."

While it was sweet of Alice to think she was protecting my "broken heart," truth was I didn't think I could stick to my guns if I saw Jasper any time soon.

Instead, I threw myself into the piece I was trying to finish. It took a somewhat darker turn after I ended things with Jasper, but it was still one of the best pieces I'd composed in a long time and the director of the upcoming concert had agreed to allow me to play it.

I also spent a lot of time with Alec. It took me about a week after Jasper's show to talk to Alec and tell him I was no longer seeing Jasper. I was ready to move forward with my life, to move on with someone who wanted to be with me, and only me—someone for whom I was enough.

And Alec? Alec made sure I knew that I was everything he wanted.

He traveled quite a bit for work, flying to London and Paris in order to bring back the latest fashions for the boutique he owned. In fact, the person Jasper had told Alice he wanted to introduce her to at his show, was Alec. He bought several of her designs; after he assured me that he wasn't just buying them because she was my sister but because, and I quote, "she's fucking ace, mate."

Four months later, I was preparing to perform my piece. The night before saw Riley, Jake, Alice, Chelsea, and Alec, over for dinner. When Alec and I finally became exclusive, things were a little awkward for Chelsea and me. She was still working with Jasper, and there were times she'd start to talk about her day and work and suddenly clam up.

I, on the other hand, spent the first two months doing everything I could to convince her that I was a good guy. I knew exactly what it was like when your best friends didn't like your boyfriend, and I was convinced that Chelsea hated me.

In the end it was Alec who, in a fit of frustration, told us to stop acting like a pair of idiots and that if we didn't stop, he was going to leave us both. Well, not really, but he got us both drunk and told us to "work it out." Then he left. When he came back, I was wearing Chelsea's bra, she was wearing my boxers, and we were sitting on the couch playing "fuck, marry, kill."

It was Chelsea's idea for everyone to get together the night before my concert. I teased her that it was because she really wanted a group round of Kumbaya, but in truth I think she wanted to spend more time with Jake. _That _was going to be interesting to watch. The mood was light as everyone tried to distract me from my nerves. It worked, mostly, but after everyone but Alec left, my anxiety came back.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. "Tense?"

I leaned back against his chest and shrugged at the same time. "A little."

Alec nosed along my neck, his breath washing hot across my skin. "I know a way to help with that."

Laughing, I turned in his arms and kissed him. "I'm sure you do."

"C'mon, I'll show you."

Alec took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. He kissed me long and sweet, then carefully undressed me, brushing his lips over every piece of skin that was revealed, until he was on his knees before me. His tongue teased and licked with slow, languid strokes. When he finally sucked me in, it was with the same pace—drawn out and measured—until I was begging him for more.

Fingers began to work me open with unbearable slowness. Finally, I grunted, "If you don't fuck me now—" but I was cut off by his laugh, and cursed as he withdrew his fingers.

Then he was pressing into me in one long, slick slide. He leaned in to kiss me, and began to move steady and sure and deep. He was propped up on his forearms, elbows on either side of my head, and his eyes never moved from my face.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

I closed my eyes against the intensity of him, and felt him reach down between us and grasp me. "Look at me."

When I opened them again, he smiled. "That's it," he whispered. He kept me pinned by his gaze for another minute, before I felt my orgasm peak. It was like riding a wave, not a huge, crashing one, but a gentle crest and spill that coursed through me and left me lax and languorous.

Alec maintained his rhythm for another minute or two, before he pulled back and began to chase his own orgasm in earnest. His thrusts became erratic and then he buried his face in my neck as he came, his groans soft and hot against me.

We lay there for a moment, quiet and relaxed. Alec pressing small, soft kisses into my neck, before he said, "I love you."

_I love you_.

Riley was the only person other than my family to ever say that, to mean _that_. I didn't know how to respond, hadn't dared to think about our relationship in those terms yet, not after I'd given my heart up to Jasper so easily. Alec shifted next to me, pulling away.

"Alec, I—"

He placed a finger against my lips. "Shh, love, you don't need to say anything now. I didn't tell you so that you'd say it back. I just wanted you to know."

I nodded and he moved his finger away and then kissed me. "Sleep now. You have a big day tomorrow. I'll see you there."

Taking Alec's advice, I slept, but woke feeling restless and anxious—as if I'd had bad dreams all night, but couldn't remember them. By the afternoon, I was a bit of a wreck. It wasn't only a big opportunity for me, but the piece was an intensely personal one. Up to that night, all of the compositions I'd performed, or were performed by various musicians, had been commissioned for other people. This one was different, and I felt it to my bones.

When I sat at the piano, however, all the anxiety fell away and the music flowed out of me. All of the emotion of the last year—the beauty and the pain, the love, the heartache—came out in melody and rhythm. It was difficult and cathartic, and when I finished I realized that my face was wet with tears I hadn't felt fall.

My hands fell to my lap, and I sat for a moment before the sounds of loud claps and _bravos_ brought my attention back to the moment. I stood and turned to face the audience, amazed by the ovation I received. Alice, Riley, Jake, Tanya, Alec, and Chelsea were there in the front, and the smile on Alice's face was huge. Surveying the audience, I took my bows and as I stood, I thought I saw a familiar shock of blond hair as the door closed behind it, but told myself to stop having flights of fancy.

Backstage, I was crushed in hugs from all my friends, my family. I didn't see Alec at first, but before I could ask anyone where he was, I had to make nice to several people and spent the next twenty minutes shaking hands and accepting accolades. Finally, I saw him leaning against the wall, watching me. He smiled when he saw me, and as I walked over he pushed himself away from the wall.

"Hi."

"That was amazing, Edward. I'm so proud of you."

He meant it, I knew that, but there was something else underlying the words. Some emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on. Moments later, however, his hand was on the back of my neck, his lips were on mine and I didn't think on it anymore.

The next morning Alec was flying out to London and I took him to the airport. As he turned to go through security, I grabbed his wrist.

"I love you too," I told him.

The answering smile I received in return was brilliant.

So was his goodbye kiss.

And I did love Alec. I did. I loved the surety and security he brought to my life. Loved the easy pattern we fell into. It was comfortable, and if our love didn't rise to the passion I'd had with Jasper, well I doubted anything ever would.

It wasn't like I spent my time thinking about Jasper. Just, sometimes.

The next day I was out with Tanya, when I heard, "_Precioso!"_

I whipped around and was engulfed in a hug from Maria, yet despite everything that had happened I didn't feel awkward with her at all. After I introduced her to Tanya, I asked about Peter.

"Oh, he's fine. He's helping a friend move today. How are you? Your performance the other night was wonderful!"

"How do you know?"

"Oh, _Precioso_, we were there! Peter and I attend these events regularly."

"I had no idea! Why didn't you say hello?" I asked, but I think I already knew the answer.

"You were with your family, _mijo_. I didn't want to interrupt, or make you uncomfortable."

"I don't think you could, Maria," I told her with a laugh. We chatted for a bit longer, Maria and Tanya seemed to get along well. We segued into a couple stories, until we stumbled across the topic of Jasper.

"How is . . . no, you know what? I don't want to know," I told her.

"Too bad," Maria said. "He's miserable, although he won't say it. Pretends everything is fine, when it's not. Pretends being in love is something you can ignore. He—"

"Maria, please stop!" I couldn't listen to her, didn't _want_ to listen to her. "You should have come up to me the other night. Then I could have introduced you to, Alec. I've moved on, Maria. I can't . . ." The words caught in my throat. _I can't think about him without it still hurting. Can't stop wanting him. Can't find the strength to go through it again._

She muttered something in Spanish that I didn't understand, but made Tanya snicker.

"Shit. Fine, I'll shut up. Just don't ever tell Peter that," she said with a smile.

We parted ways after that, with Maria promising to tell Peter I said hello and with me promising to let them know when I would be performing again.

"Wow," Tanya let out after. "She's kind of a force of nature."

"She really is," I agreed. "Hey, what did she say in Spanish?"

Tanya laughed. "Something to the effect of 'boys are idiots.'"

I rolled my eyes.

"Listen, Edward, what she said about Jasper—"

"Don't. Please, Tanya?"

"I just . . . Are you happy now? With Alec? Does he make you that happy?"

"Yes! Of course I am . . . he does . . . I mean . . .Why? Don't I seem happy? I love Alec!"

Tanya shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Edward. It's just that you were so . . . open, I guess, when you were with Jasper, alive and vivid. But if Alec makes you happy, then I'm happy. Really!"

"Alec makes me happy. He does. It's not the same with him as it was with Jasper, I know that. But Alec is good to me. He's good _for_ me! So what if I'm not as _vivid_? So what if we're not fucking on fire escapes or the kitchen floor or supply closets or coming five times before he lets me go home? He loves me, and only me!"

Tanya's eyes grew bigger with each word, and I was shaking by the time I was done ranting. I clapped my hand over my mouth, not believing what I'd just said.

"A fire escape?"

"That would be the part you fixate on."

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "Seriously though," she began. "I just wanted to make sure you're good, okay? That you weren't just rebounding or . . ." but she trailed off at the look I leveled at her. "Okay, never mind. I'm stopping."

"Thanks."

We started walking again when she piped up. "Five times? Really?"

I shook my head, thrilled that at least I hadn't mentioned Peter and Maria in my rant.

About a month after my concert, Alec and I were cleaning up after dinner. I was chattering away about Tanya and her teasing.

"So then she says, 'I guess he'll be taking you home to England to meet the parents soon,' and I—"

A choked sound from Alec made me spin around from the sink. His face a mixture of emotions, the most prominent one seemed to be regret.

"Alec?"

"Edward . . . I . . . we need to talk."

Heart pounding, I walked over to him but when I reached out to touch him, he pulled away and sat down. I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Sitting at the table, Alec pulled a folded up piece of paper out of him pocket and pushed it over to me.

I opened it to find two tickets to London . . . dated three days earlier. "I don't understand. What is this? You want me to . . . you don't want . . . Alec, please say something."

"I bought these before the concert. I wanted to take you to meet my parents."

"So why didn't you say something? I don't understand, Alec."

Both his hands were covering his face, bought when he brought them away, I understood.

"Oh. Oh, you don't want me to meet them. I . . . but, I thought . . . I mean you said, and then I . . . Christ, you didn't mean . . ." I'd done it again, given my heart to someone who didn't feel the same way about me.

"No! Edward, God no. I do, Edward, I do love you." He dropped his face back into his hands.

"But? I'm not good enough to meet your parents? What?" I shouted. "God, I let myself love you and now, what? Fuck!" I pushed away from the table and stalked to the other side of the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

His chair scraped across the floor as he stood and walked over to me. "Edward," he grabbed my hands. "It's _not_ because I don't love you. It's . . . I realized, the night of the concert. . . Edward, you'll never write a piece like that about me, never feel that passionately about me."

"What are you talking about? I love you!"

"But not enough."

His words rang out and then hung heavy in the ensuing silence.

"Alec! I—"

"I know you love me, Edward, I do know that. But you don't love me like you love him. I tried to give it some time after the concert, to see if I was just imagining things, but—"

"God damn it, Alec! I love you. What do I have to do to prove it? I chose you. Chose _you_. Doesn't that count for something?" I tore my hands out of his, and then reached for his face, pulling him to me, kissing him trying to show him that I did love him.

He kissed me, but then pulled away. "I know, luv, I know. But I want more. I want _all_ of you, including the parts you left with him. I _deserve_ that."

His words cut me, not because they were wrong, but because he was right. He was so very, very right. Alec was wonderful and loving, and he deserved someone who could give him everything, not just whatever was leftover from a broken heart.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I wish I could be what you need."

"I'm sorry too. Goodbye, Edward." His lips brushed my cheek, and then he was gone.

The tickets sat on the table, crumpled. A taunt of what could have been left sitting on an empty table.

Alone, like me.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I had hoped to get this out sooner, but you know, life gets in the way. As always, my eternal love and gratitude to **Chicklette**, not just for her beta brain, but for being a fuckawesome friend as well. You have her to thank for so much in this story._

_Also, since I can't reply to guest reviews, I just want to say THANKS to those of you who commented that way.  
_

* * *

I took a step back from the canvas I was working on and rubbed my hand across my chest as I studied it, inadvertently smearing paint across my shirt.

"It's beautiful, _mijo_." Maria's voice was quiet.

"Thanks," I said, leaning back against her as she wrapped her arms around my middle.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm just happy you found your balance again."

I shook my head. Of course I had to thank her, her and Peter. If not for them, I don't know where I would have wound up. I'd been living with them for a couple of months, unable to keep paying rent on my loft.

After Edward left, and my subsequent attempt to recapture my prior life, everything fell apart. Offers for my work dried up, and after a while I had to admit that Maria was right: Edward had changed everything about what inspired my work. I needed to regain focus, balance in my life and in my art.

Just before I moved in with Maria and Peter, I went home to visit my parents. One look at my face when Daddy and I walked into the house and Momma knew something was wrong.

"C'mere, _chère_," she said before wrapping me in a hug.

I squeezed her tight, clinging to the comfort of Momma and home, before she pulled away and cupped my face in her hands. She stared at me like that for a moment, then pulled me with her into the kitchen and sat me in the chair.

"Now, tell me about the person who broke your heart," she demanded as she set about making my favorite foods for lunch.

So I did. I told her about Edward and my art and how I'd let everything fall apart, let everyone down. I showed her my sketch book, still filled with images of Edward and pictures of some of the canvases that sold the night of the show at Chelsea's gallery.

"He's beautiful," Momma said, as she looked over it all.

"I know. He's beautiful inside too."

"Did you know when your Daddy first asked me out I said no?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I had just finished school and had this vision of what my life was going to be. Find a job, marry a lawyer or doctor . . . that vision didn't include getting married to a beat cop with no degree."

"You were a snob," I laughed.

Momma laughed with me. "I was! But your Daddy just kept on asking me out until I finally said yes. I thought I'd go out with him once, and he'd see how wrong we were for each other and finally stop asking me out. Thing is _chère_, sometimes what we _think_ we know is as wrong as it gets. I was wrong about your Daddy, and I think you already know you were wrong about Edward and your talent."

I had already begun to realize that, I just hadn't wanted to accept it.

Still, it was my Daddy who put things in perspective for me.

"Jasper, I don't normally pry—" he started, his finger tight around the beer in his hand.

"But you're going to anyway?"

He laughed and shook his head slightly. The hum of noise in the bar was a constant thing, just loud enough to give us privacy, but low enough to let us talk without yelling. It was Daddy's favorite watering hole, and everyone there knew him.

The waitress came over to make sure we didn't need anything. She was a pretty thing, all long legs and long, brown hair. Her tits were perfect, and when she walked, her ass swayed just so. When she fawned over us, with her "can I get you anything else, Captain?" and her "well now, aren't you as handsome as your daddy," Daddy just smiled and politely sent her on his way. His gaze never lingered.

Mine did.

"Jasper."

"Hmmm," I replied, dragging my eyes off the lovely Jessica's backside and back to my Daddy's face.

He shook his head. "Son, pull your head out of your ass. What you're looking for ain't between Jessica's legs."

I always did love Daddy's straight talk.

Gripping my own beer and taking a sip, I replied, "I know, Daddy. I think I'm figuring that out. It's just . . ."

"It's just now that you've fucked things up you don't know how to fix them?"

"Yes, exactly!"

"Son, I can't say I'm an expert on this . . . stuff," he finished with a hand waving about. "And I can't say as I understand it, but I'm tryin'. Anyway, if you love this boy—"

"Edward. His name is Edward."

Daddy smiled. "If you love Edward, then you got to go and show him. You can't just let him walk away."

"How?"

"Well, first of all, stop sniffing around everyone else," he said with a meaningful nod of his head in Jessica's direction.

I shook my head. "I was just looking, Daddy. I haven't . . . it's . . ." and wow, the conversation turned awkward real fast. "It's been a little while since I've been with anyone."

It _had_ been a few weeks since I'd been with someone. The last time I'd gone out, I couldn't bring myself to do anything with anyone. I'd fucked my way through my regular list and then some, hoping to get Edward out of my system, but all I'd done is entrench him further. I couldn't fuck someone else without thinking of him, couldn't paint someone else without comparing them to him.

Even Peter and Maria had stopped sleeping with me, because as she put it, "You're being a fucking idiot."

"I don't know what to do, Daddy. Don't know how to show him that I'm changed, changing."

"Well, you can start by manning up and going to talk to him. Tell him how you feel, what you want. If that doesn't work, then you do something big. Embarrassingly big. Like singing-a-song-to-the-woman-you-love-in-front-of-all-her-friends big."

I gawked. "_That's_ how you finally got her to go out with you?"

Daddy grinned. "Son, ain't no room for pride in love."

Being home had grounded me, made me reassess and rethink in ways that I couldn't when surrounded by my day-to-day life. I finally began to take stock of the things Maria had told me, and really it was astounding how well she and Momma would get along. In fact, I became sure I couldn't ever let them meet—the Earth would probably stop spinning.

When I got back to my life, I decided to talk to Edward. I hadn't spoken to Alice in a while, it was just too awkward, but I did recall that Edward's concert was coming up. I decided I would go and try to talk to him then. Also, I'd always wanted to hear the end of the piece I'd caught him playing that morning. It was beautiful and passionate, and I wanted to know what Edward was hiding in those notes.

It turned out Peter and Maria were going to the concert, so I went with them. To say that listening to Edward's playing was amazing would be an understatement. It was revelatory. There was so much passion and beauty and pain in the piece that I felt it like a gut punch. As I listened to it and watched him play, everything my parents and Maria had been telling me, everything I'd been feeling and denying and finally came together with clarity.

I didn't just love Edward, I needed him and in any way that he would have me.

All the months spent trying to convince myself that my artwork would be hampered by monogamy was such a monumental waste of time. If meeting Maria and Peter had been the spark that led to my artistic awakening, then meeting and falling in love with Edward had been the fuel that fanned the flames and would keep them burning, always.

I watched and listened, and my heart ached and was filled at the same time. As Edward played the final notes, I could see the tears on his cheeks and then watched as he sat there, unaware at first of the effect his music had on everyone in the room. When he finally raised his head, finally noticed the noise and the applause, the look on his face was one of utter amazement.

He looked incandescent.

Determined to talk to him, I made my way down the hall and headed backstage. I was stopped short by the sight of Alec standing by the door to the dressing rooms.

"Alec."

"Don't do this, Jasper."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you know exactly what I'm talking about. He's moved on. He—"

"With you. He's moved on with you." It wasn't a question and I couldn't keep the pain out of my voice. I should have known. Should have at least thought that maybe Edward had moved on, found someone else.

"We're happy, Jasper. It took a long time for him to open up to me after you, but I think . . . I think we might have something really good. Please, don't fuck it up for us. For him. He deserves to be happy and I think I can do that for him."

"And what if you can't?" I spat back.

"Then I can't. But you had your chance and you threw it away. Don't take this chance away from him."

"Or from you."

Alec nodded. "Or from me. Edward is…" he shrugged, "I love him."

The sensation of loss was overwhelming, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. There was nothing more to say. I gave Alec a slight nod, turned on my heel and began to walk away.

"Thank you, Jasper. I—"

I froze, but couldn't turn around. My hand lifted as if to say _it's nothing_, but it fell limp at my side again because it wasn't nothing. Edward was _everything_, and I'd lost him through my own stupidity.

Two days later I moved in with Peter and Maria. When I had returned from visiting my parents, I realized my finances were rather dire since I wasn't selling anything new. However, it was when Maria came over and saw the state I was in that she made the decision to move me in with her and Peter. At first I fought her on it, but then in her indomitable way, she convinced me.

"_Mijo_, let us do this, hmm? We have plenty of room and," she ran a hand through my hair, "I think you need this."

I jerked away. "I can take care of myself, Maria."

She raised one eyebrow at me. "This," she gestured around the mess in my loft and the pile of unpaid bills, "this is taking care of yourself?"

"You're not my mother, Maria!"

She snorted. "I should hope not, or we'd all be in therapy."

I couldn't help but laugh, and damn but it felt good. We both started laughing, until we wound up slumped against the couch. I leaned my head on her shoulder.

"I lost him, Maria."

She petted my leg. "Let's deal with one problem at a time, okay? Come stay with us until you figure out what you're going to do, until you've found your spark again, okay?"

I nodded against her shoulder. "Okay."

She kissed the top of my head. "Then we'll figure out how to get _Precioso_ back."

"It doesn't matter, Maria. I had a life before Edward. I just have to get it back. It'll be fine."

What else could I do?

It took a while, but slowly I started to get my bearings again. Sort of.

For all my protestations that it didn't matter that Edward had moved on, or that yes I was in love with him but I had to move on, it was clear that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Instead, I turned that love into something positive, and let my work be inspired by Edward.

Some of the pieces were of Edward, either from memory or from my sketches. Others were inspired by him. They were more abstract, an expression of emotion: desire, love, happiness, and heartbreak. Sometimes it was just a riot of color and I tossed it aside in frustration, other times the pieces brought me to my knees, and Peter or Maria would find me there and hold me close.

Eventually, however, Maria pointed out that I had enough new material and it was time to put myself out there again. I contacted Demetri, who was cautiously optimistic given my recent run, but he said he'd call Chelsea and see if she wanted to run another showing. I didn't hold my breath that it would pan out, given the situation with Edward and Alec, but a small part of me clung to the idea that maybe it would at least put me in some contact with Edward. It was pathetic and I knew it, but the idea of him being out of my life forever was not one I was comfortable with.

When Demetri called to tell me that Chelsea was in, I was elated and then terrified. Still, in order to avoid huge amounts of anger and embarrassment, I decided to call Alice.

"Hey, Al."

"Jasper? Wow! Hi, how are you?"

Alice's happy energy was palpable over the phone, and we quickly fell into an easy conversation. The awkwardness of the previous few months seemed to have, if not fallen away, at least dissipated—until I told her about the show at Chelsea's.

"I'm sorry to put you in this position Alice, but I need to know just how awkward this is going to be. I mean, I know Edward is with Alec now and Chelsea—"

"No they're not."

"—Alec . . . wait, what?" My heart was hammering, but I was sure I didn't hear her right.

"Edward, fuck he'll probably kill me for telling you, but he and Alec aren't together anymore."

I sat down hard. "What? When?"

"A couple of months ago. Maybe a month or so after his concert?"

"He was amazing," I said, not even realizing I'd spoken out loud. My thoughts were whirring and chaotic, filled with sudden hope and possibility.

"Jasper? How do you know he was amazing?" she asked.

Still caught up in my own head I murmured, "Was there. Saw. Heard."

"Jesus, Jasper. Does Edward know you were there?"

"Hmm? Edward? No, Alec told me not to," I replied, still off in my own head and trying to figure out how to get Edward back.

I was brought back from my mental meanderings by Alice's shouting. "Jasper! Jasper! Christ, are you still there?"

"What? Shit, yeah sorry, _chère_, I'm here."

"I asked why you went to the concert."

"Because I wanted to talk to him, and I knew he'd be there."

"Why, Jasper? Why did you want to talk to him?"

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath I said, "Because I love him, Alice. I need him. I was such an idiot to let him walk away. Such a fucking idiot."

"What do you mean by Alec told you not to?"

"It doesn't matter, Al."

"Yes, it does."

"Is he seeing anyone new?" I asked.

"No, he's not and don't change the subject."

"Alice, really, it's not . . . he just asked me to back off, to give them a chance."

"And you did. Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why did you back off? When we were in school that never would have stopped you."

"I told you, I love him. I wanted him to be happy."

"You were being selfless?"

I could hear the disbelief in her voice.

"Don't make me sound like a complete martyr, Alice. I fucked up. I know it, and I was willing to walk away if it made him happy, but now? Now maybe I have a second chance. Maybe. _If_ you're willing to help me?"

"Jasper," she whined. "Edward will kill me if I get involved. I've already said too much."

"Please," I begged. "I swear I want to do this right this time. Please. At least . . . can you just meet me so I can show you something?"

It took some cajoling, but Alice finally agreed to meet me at Chelsea's gallery a couple of days before my showing. Things had been awkward at first with Chelsea as well, but she was a professional. She also made a point of telling me that Alec was in London for the entire month.

She'd seen one or two of the pieces I'd sent with Demetri, but when I brought all the pieces in she was floored.

"You're all a right bunch of idiots, you know that?"

"I think I've figured that out," I told her.

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing."

Nodding, I replied, "I think I do this time."

When Alice arrived and saw everything, the look on her face had me wondering if she was going to cry or punch me again.

"What is this Jasper?"

"It's what I've been working on for the last few months."

"All of the ones with people in them are Edward!" she hissed.

"No," I corrected. "All of them _are_ Edward."

Her eyes grew large and her mouth opened and closed twice before she asked, "What about the paintings with all the others?"

I shook my head. "There aren't any others. Haven't been for a couple of months now." I shrugged. "Don't want anyone else."

Tears sprang up in her eyes. "Jesus, Jasper, you really love him."

"Yeah, _chère_, I really do."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Even though Alice had been trying hard not to butt into Edward's life—apparently he'd gotten very upset with her at some point—she was a hopeless romantic and couldn't say no. She couldn't guarantee what Edward's reaction would be, and was afraid that he'd be angry with her again, but she said it was worth trying.

That's all I could hope for really.

The two of us stared at the last canvas I'd completed. It was a large, abstract piece about the night I met Edward. A riot of all the colors he evoked that night. I'd painted it with my hands, touching and reliving how I felt to have him under me. After a few moments Alice turned to leave.

"I can't make any promises, Jasper, but I'll try to get him here."

"Thanks, Al."

She began to walk away, but then she stopped and turned. "Do you know what Edward called the piece he performed?"

I shook my head.

"It's called, _Finger Painting_. Bye, Jas."

Stunned, I waved goodbye without another word.

An hour in to the show, Alice and Edward still hadn't arrived. Alice had told me she wasn't sure she could get him to come, even without telling him whose show it was. She'd assured me that he and Chelsea were still on good terms, despite his break up with Alec. Chelsea herself had confirmed it, but she was adamant about staying uninvolved.

"Sorry, luv. I adore Edward and hope it works out for you two, but," she shrugged, "Alec."

I'd hugged her and told her I understood.

Chelsea had just finished introducing me to a potential buyer, when I heard Edward's voice.

"I can't believe I let you drag me here, Alice! What if Alec is here?"

"I thought you and Alec were on good terms?"

"There's good terms and good terms, Alice—"

"Shut up, he's in London."

He looked good. Well, apart from the scowl on his face he looked good. Alice had dressed him much as she had the night we met, and his hair glinted under the lights.

"Oh. So why are we here? Who are we pandering too? What genius . . ." Edward's voice trailed off as he looked up and saw himself staring back.

"Oh _fuck_," he muttered. "God damn you, Alice."

I saw her wince before she caught my eye. Edward turned to see who she was looking at and I saw him flush.

"Hi, Edward."

"Jasper, hi . . . I . . . Jesus, Jasper . . . I don't . . . I—"

"Please, Edward just . . . just look for a minute, okay?"

All I wanted to do was pull him to me and kiss him, but I kept my hands to myself and waited. Edward took a deep breath, and then nodded. With a dirty look at Alice, he started to walk around the gallery. I saw several people look his way, obviously recognizing him from some of the paintings and drawings.

When he stopped in front of the last piece, the largest one, I walked up behind him. He stared at it for so long, that I finally had to say something.

"This one is, uh, also you. It's from—"

"The night we met," he finished. His fingers rose as if to trace some of the lines. "Copper, forest, vanilla," he whispered. "Mocha, carnelian," he continued. "Yellow, orange, red," the last came out half strangled.

"You remember."

He turned around and looked at me. "Of _course_ I remember! I remember everything about that day. What I don't understand is this," he said as he waved his hand toward all the artwork.

Without taking my eyes off him I said, "I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I let you walk out the door, and I have spent the last couple of months getting my head out of my ass." I nodded to the painting. "I fell in love with you that day, but I didn't really get it, didn't really understand that you were all I needed."

"Jasper, I—"

"There isn't anyone else. There hasn't been anyone else for a few months now. No one. I want to try this again, Edward. I wanted to do it right, and show you what you mean to me, and well, this is what I came up with." I ended with a similar all-encompassing wave around the room.

Edward's eyebrows rose. "Like, a grand gesture?"

I nodded.

"And there's no one else?"

"I don't _want_ anyone else, _chère_. Just you. If you'll have me."

"And what about a year from now, when you see someone hot twink in a club? What then?"

I shook my head. "Edward, my past is what it is. I can't change it. What I know right now is that I love _you_, and I want _you_. Can I promise what our lives will be like in a year? Five? No, but I don't really think any couple can predict that, can they? I do promise that I will never betray you, and that I will always, _always_ talk to you if something is bothering me or not working out. But I expect you to do the same."

Looking across the room at a painting of himself, he asked, "And when I stop being your muse?"

"I can't imagine that happening. But if it did? The last few months have taught me that I can look in a lot of different places for inspiration, and it does not have to be at the price of who I love. Part of why I let you go was because I was too rigid in believing that I couldn't change the way I see my art. I won't make that mistake again."

He stared at me for several long moments, calculating and evaluating. I began to deflate, convinced that it was all too little, too late, but apparently I gave him the answers he was looking for, because suddenly I had an armful of warm, pliable Edward.

"Jesus, Jasper. Yes!" he cried, before his lips were on mine. "I mean, we still have a lot to talk about you and me, but yeah, I want this. I want you," he whispered, and then kissed me again.

For a minute I was lost in the taste and texture of Edward's mouth, the feel of him in my arms, but I could hear the quiet chuckles and _aww's_ of the people around us. We broke apart, and when Edward realized the scene we'd made, that beautiful blush of his crept up his neck and spread over his face and I couldn't help but laugh.

Maria pushed in and grabbed him for a hug. "I'm so happy, _Precioso_! Finally! Now, when are you coming for dinner?"

I hugged Alice and whispered, "Thank you," in her ear.

She hugged me back tight and said, "I didn't really do it for you, you know."

"I know, but thanks all the same."

Rose came up to me and said, "I guess I'm going to have to teach Edward the head slap."

I'm pretty sure I heard Emmett whimper.

The rest of the evening progressed, although all I wanted to do was leave and be with Edward. Throughout the next two hours I made nice with the people at the gallery, sometimes Edward was beside me, sometimes he was across the room, watching me with a small smile on his face or, blushing a vivid scarlet because someone cornered him and identified him as the subject of my paintings.

Finally, finally everyone was leaving. The evening was a success on so many levels that I felt giddy, high even. Edward had accepted me back into his life. I knew we still had things to talk about, he'd said as much, and that despite my assurances he would probably still have reservations about my willingness to commit, or even my ability to. I no longer had any such doubts, but I knew it would take time for him to believe me.

When we walked outside, I took his hand. "You wanna go get some coffee? We should probably talk, right?"

Edward looked at me in surprise, then smiled. "Yeah, we probably should," he said. "But," he continued as he pulled me close, "when have we done anything like we should?" And then he kissed me, wet and filthy and full of promise.

"Okay," I panted against his neck. "Yeah, you're right. Your place, _now_."

If he was surprised that I wasn't taking him back to my loft, Edward didn't say a word, just flagged down a cab and climbed in, pulling me after him. The ride was torturous, as we teased each other mercilessly with trailing fingers and whispered words. As we exited the cab, however, things slowed down.

Edward pulled me to the house by the hand, almost tentatively, as if he was afraid I'd change my mind. As soon as we walked in, I pulled him in for a kiss, soft and deep.

"Take me to bed, _chère_. Let me love you," I whispered against his lips.

"Yeah . . . yeah," he whispered back and then led me to his room.

We undressed quietly, eyes on each other the entire time. I laid him out on the bed and began to kiss and stroke every inch of skin I could reach, until Edward finally growled, "Jesus, fuck, Jasper, you're killing me."

I looked up at him and smiled, then took the tip of his cock in my mouth and teased it. Over and over I licked at him and suckled just there, running my tongue over the head. Edward's hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets, before he finally grabbed the back of my head. "Suck me," he demanded, his hand trembling with the effort to not push down. "Damn it, please just . . ." his voice cut off in long moan as I took him all the way to the root.

My hips were pushing against the bed, rutting against the sheets and needy as I sucked him, loving the feel and taste and texture of him—hot, soft skin, tangy-salt taste, and thick weight against my tongue. And hard. So, very, very hard. I felt him tense, ready to come and pulled off.

His strangled cry of frustration made me laugh.

"You are a sadist," he muttered.

"Hush now. I'm gonna take real good care of you, _chère_."

My tongue trailed down lower, laving his balls, then moving further back. My hands gripped his hips and lifted him as my tongue traced over his opening. I felt him shudder, heard him moan. Heard his soft, breathy "oh God, oh God, oh God," as I worked him open with my tongue and fingers.

When I finally pressed into him, finally fitted myself as closely to him as possible, it was everything I could do not to lose it. It had been so long, so long without Edward, so long since I'd been intimate with anyone. I dropped my forehead against his.

Edward squirmed. "Please move, Jasper." His body clenched around me.

I managed a strangled, "Don't move!"

"Shh," he said as he brought his hand against my neck. "C'mere," he whispered as he pulled me down to him and kissed me.

We lay there, chest to chest, elbow to elbow, fingers entwined, breathing each other's air. Edward's hips twitched, and we began to move, slow. So, so slow. Our sweat slicked bodies slid against each other, Edward's hard cock trapped between us. Push pull, push pull, until I felt him spill between us and I followed, his cries caught on a gasp, my _I love yous _between our lips.

Later we would take each other apart like before, sometimes savage and desperate, sometimes light and laughing. Over the next few days we would sleep sweaty and messy, and then make a mess of the kitchen floor once again. Alice, who still had a key, was traumatized by what she walked in on one morning before running back out; Edward was simultaneously mortified and in hysterics. We also talked, a lot, and argued a little. Edward played _Finger Painting_ for me, then fucked me over his piano. Hard.

We got to know each other all over again, and established the new parameters of our relationship. It took time, and for me it was an adjustment, but we made it work. I found out how much I love waking up to the same face most mornings, and that make up sex isn't just an urban legend. We learned that we will never, ever, be able to thank Alice enough for dragging Edward to our graduation exhibition.

No, literally, she won't stop reminding us.

Mostly, I finally learned to be happy, to love and be loved in return.

_-Fin-_

(mostly)

* * *

_a/n: So, yeah, that's it. The last regular chapter of Finger Painting. I hope to get a short epi up soon. I already have it percolating in my brain. Thank you all so very much for sticking with this story after all this time, and to my newer readers, thanks for giving a work-in-progress a chance. I know these two boys have often made you want to tear your hair out, but I hope I sorted them out to your satisfaction. Thanks again. _


	13. Epilogue

"Stop fidgeting."

"Ugh, I hate this thing."

"It's a black tie wedding, Edward. You have to wear the bow tie." Alice's retort had a little too much glee in it. She was enjoying my discomfort too much, the little sadist.

"Whose idea was a formal wedding anyway?" I whined.

"Mine. Now hush, _chère_," Jasper chided, as Alice finished tying the tie.

"There."

Jasper appraised me head to toe. "Fuck you look good." He leaned in and kissed me, then pulled me closer to him.

Alice swatted us both and pulled us apart. "Oh no. No, no, no. I'm not letting you two get all messed up. Save the face sucking for later. There's a wedding to have first. Get out there, Jasper. You aren't supposed to be in here! Get out there," she pointed to the chapel. "Go!"

It was hard to argue with Alice when she was being a bossy terror, so Jasper shot me a rueful look and mouthed _later_, before going to take his place at the end of the aisle.

I grinned. "Shall we?" I took Alice's hand and tucked it into my elbow. "You look beautiful, Alice."

"Mom and Dad would—"

"I think they would. They—"

"Shh," she interrupted. "I know. Don't make me cry and ruin my make up."

"Fine. Let's do this."

The music began and we walked out. The chapel was full of people. I could see our friends and extended family, and couldn't help smiling when I saw Rose and Emmett, her swelling stomach just starting to show. They hadn't wasted any time after getting married the year before.

I looked toward the end of the aisle, where Jasper stood and my breath caught. He looked gorgeous and so very happy. But it was Alistair, standing next to him, who lit up when he saw his bride and me making our way down the aisle.

Jasper and Alistair had met through their mutual agent, Demetri. Alistair was reserved, almost reclusive at times, and it was strange enough that he and Jasper hit it off so well as friends. When Jasper introduced him to Alice, however, none of us understood the instant attraction between them. Still, they worked somehow—Alice's energy and optimism was a perfect counterpoint to Alistair's subdued introspection.

They were a study in contrasts, and yet utterly complimentary, and he was so besotted with her, that I had no trouble giving him my blessing when he told me he wanted to marry her. Still, I couldn't help the _you break her heart, I break your face_ look that I gave him as I walked my sister toward her groom. Jasper, standing as Alistair's best man tried his best not to laugh at me.

Jasper and I had come a long way in the four years since we'd met, and if you'd told me that first night that together we would be participating together in my sister's wedding, I probably would have laughed at you. Life has a funny way of turning what you think you know on its head.

Despite my willingness to give our relationship another try, things were not always easy for us in the beginning. Jasper had never lied to me, and although he said all the right things the night we got back together—all the things I needed to hear—it took a long time for me to trust him, to trust his feelings for me and his commitment to our relationship. Likewise, Jasper had to find a new balance as well, between his need to be his own person, his desire to be with me, and to navigate my moodiness when I felt insecure about us.

In between all of that, we also had to find a way to reconcile our friends to our new relationship. Most of Jasper's friends and former lovers were happy for him, and easily accepted that he was now solely a platonic friend to them. One or two, kept trying to get in his pants, which led to a couple of epic fights between us, but we worked it out. Those friends did not get to stick around.

Maria and Peter were, of course, our strongest supporters and whenever things got messy, Peter would come take me for a drink. He was a good listener and always managed to help me put things in perspective. Maria would usually harangue Jasper, sometimes in Spanish, until he "stopped being an idiot," as she liked to say. I worried at first that their relationship with him would complicate things, but they easily moved from being Jasper's lovers to something that was more like family. In any event, a few years later they met Collin. He moved in with them just before Alice's wedding. It seemed to be pretty permanent.

Riley and Jake weren't too thrilled that I'd gotten back together with Jasper at first, but eventually they were won over by his sincerity, and by how happy he made me. Of course, it helped when Jake and Chelsea wound up getting together. He was, as she put it, "arse over tits" in love with her, but the feeling seemed to be pretty mutual. As a result, Alec was back in my life again. At first it was awkward, but eventually things settled, especially after he met Laurent on one of his trips to London. It didn't take long for Alec to introduce Laurent to his parents.

Jasper's parents accepted me into their family with open arms and hearts, and his mom even taught me the head slap—Maria laughed for a full day the first time she saw it. Of course, her son being partnered with another man didn't stop Jasper's mom from bugging him about grandbabies either. I didn't even know Jasper _could_ blush until she lectured us on surrogates and turkey basters, and we were both relieved when Rose and Emmett announced they were having a baby.

So, over time our lives and friends and families meshed. Together, Jasper and I inspired each other to bigger and better projects and were both succeeding professionally in a way we'd only dreamed of. We were happy.

As I watched my little sister get married, I looked at all the friends—the family we'd created—gathered to celebrate and thought about how lucky we were to have them all. I watched as Alice and Alistair danced, and as Emmett leaned over and kissed Rosalie's stomach, then turned to whisper something to the baby. I couldn't help but smile when I saw Tanya dancing with Jasper, the two of them getting on as thick as thieves. Even better was the happy look on Riley's face as Jared pulled him on to the dance floor and placed possessive hands on his hips. Jared was a relative newcomer to our Jerry Springer style family, but from the look of things, it seemed like he was going to be sticking around for quite a while.

I was saying goodnight to one of the guests, when I felt Jasper's arms slide around me. I leaned back in to him as I watched the couple walk away.

"Guess what, _chère_?"

Even after all this time, that term of endearment never failed to send a shiver through me, especially when he whispered it in my ear.

I tilted my head to the side a little, encouraging him to kiss my neck. "What?"

"See that door over there?" he pointed.

"Mmmm," I replied as he nipped my earlobe.

"Storage room."

I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face, or the way I shifted my hips back, pressing my ass against Jasper's half-hard cock.

"Oh really? Interesting." The circle of my hips against Jasper's belied the disinterest in my voice.

I felt his smile against my neck. "Well, it could be. I want to paint you. Feel like providing a little inspiration?"

A snort of laughter escaped me. "With a come on like that, how can I refuse?" I turned and was still smiling against his lips as he kissed me.

Jasper tugged on my bow tie. "C'mon, _chère_, let's go mess you up a little."

"Yeah, that sounds good," I whispered just as Jasper gripped the bow tie a little tighter and slid a hand down to brush against my decidedly hard cock. "Really, really good."

I knew Alice would probably bitch about the fact that my tuxedo was getting rumpled and my hair mussed, but as Jasper bent me over a slightly dusty table and slid in to me, I decided Alice could deal with it.

When I reached down to stroke myself, Jasper grabbed my hands and pinned them up by my head, entwining our fingers.

"Jasper. Jasper. I need—"

"I know. I know what you need," he whispered as he plastered himself against my back, his strokes into me deep and slow.

"Fuck, baby, please," I pleaded.

"Yeah, _chère_. Yeah. That's it," he replied, keeping the same slow pace, but releasing one of my hands and sliding his down to wrap around my cock. "That's it, baby. C'mon, c'mon," he urged as his hand slipped up and down. "Wanna feel you come."

It didn't take much longer before I was shooting over his hand. He kept pushing in to me, stroking me inside, as I rode it out, a string of profanities tumbling out of my mouth. Then he let go, slamming in to me a few more times before I felt him pulsing inside me, his teeth sinking in to the meat of my shoulder as he stifled his shout.

When we finally emerged, a bit disheveled but stupidly happy, Alice rolled her eyes.

"Jesus, you two!"

I shrugged at her helplessly, and Jasper just laughed.

"It's all your fault, anyway," Jasper reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Where's my 'thank you?'"

"Thank you, Alice," we recited in unison.

Alistair came over and pulled her away for another dance, and Jasper and I sat and watched them.

"I can honestly say I'm so happy my sister tried to set me up with yours," I told him.

He threaded his fingers through mine. "Me too."

"No regrets?"

He shook his head. "Not one, _chère_. Not one."

"Yeah, me too."

And after the limousine taking my baby sister and her new husband away left, and after the last guests drove off, Jasper and I got in our car and drove home. We walked up the stairs, past our bedroom and into his studio. I undressed in silence, the faint smell of linseed oil and mineral spirits surrounding me, at once comfortable and arousing.

"You ready?" he asked.

My _yes_ was quiet and nearly cut off, as Jasper's fingers began to move across my skin.

"Copper . . . Forest . . . Vanilla . . ."

Who ever said that finger painting is for kids?

* * *

_a/n: There you have it. I will now mark this story complete, and pray that you don't have too many cavities from the ending. My love and gratitude to **chicklette_** for being my friend first, beta second, and without whom this story would not be getting marked "complete" today. Thank you all for the support and love you've shown me and this story, and for putting up with unbearably long breaks between postings. You are the most amazing readers._


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